Still
by Twyla Mercedes
Summary: A spaceship lands in Washington D.C. A lone spaceman & his robot come from the ship, but, after an unfortunate accident, the spaceman makes no more official public appearances. Disguised, he explores the city, trying to make a decision regarding the fate of the Earth & meets a young mother & her son. Is he savior or destroyer? (Yes, this is a re-mix – with a Rumbelle twist.)
1. Chapter 1

A spaceship lands in Washington D.C. A lone spaceman and his robot come from the ship, but, after an unfortunate accident, the spaceman makes no more official public appearances. Disguised, he explores the city, trying to make a decision regarding the fate of the Earth and meets a young mother and her son. Is he savior or destroyer? (Yes, this is a re-mix – with a Rumbelle twist - of the 1951 classic _The Day the Earth Stood Still)._

 **Other characters include Baefire (with a remix of family relationships for this story), Dr. Whale, David Nolan, Leroy, Cora Mills, and a special guest appearance by Dr. Nicholas Rush.**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **Arrival**

 _ **Information is not knowledge. - Albert Einstein**_

She'd been at her job entirely too long, her eyes were stinging from looking at the computer screen.

Her office was in a part of the facility affectionately known as The Dungeon. There were no windows and only a round wall clock to give her any sense of the passage of time. When she had last checked the time, it was a little after two. Now, it was well past six thirty.

"Oh darn," Belle French, _cybrarian extraordinaire_ , had, yet again, completely lost track of time, buried in the back basement of the Smithsonian, cataloguing, cataloguing and, yes, cataloguing.

She quickly turned off her computer, rubbed her eyes and gathered up her lightweight rain-jacket and her pocketbook. She clicked off the ever-humming overhead florescent bulbs that lit her corner of the basement and began to make her way through the maze of over-stuffed, towering gray metal shelf units. Someone had already turned off the other main lights, so she was having to find her way relying on the small emergency lights along the baseboards and her memory. Never comfortable with the rickety service elevator that allowed access to the back basement, she instead went to the stairs w _here she would have a signal_ and turned on her phone.

There were eight messages.

Seven were from Gary.

"Belle, call me." "Belle, call me." "Belle, call me now." "Belle, why haven't you called me?" "Belle, it's really important you call me now." "Belle, I need to hear from you right away." Belle, what the hell is going on there? Why haven't you called me?"

The last one came from her son, Bae. "Mom, do you know what all is going on? I'm really concerned about you. Give me a call when you can."

She called her son.

"Oh, great!" Bae breathed into the phone. "You're all right."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Belle's thoughts immediately went into hyper-drive. _Had the Smithsonian been a target of terrorists? She worked in the far, far basement underground. The entire front of the building could be hit by a megaton bomb and she wouldn't have a clue._

"The spaceship," Bae explained.

"The what?"

"The spaceship. The one that landed on the mall by the museum. The great big white round spaceship that is on every single TV channel. It's been there since noon," Bae gave her more information.

Belle had stopped on the staircase trying to wrap her mind around what her eight-year-old son was telling her. _A spaceship. Out in front of the building._

 _Her analytical mind began to concoct alternatives to the immediate possibility that this was the real thing – rather, was this some enemy plot, or worse, an in-house conspiracy? Was it a joke, a hoax, a merchandising scheme?_

Well whatever, no wonder Gary had been calling her.

She made her way to the side door, the one employees used to come in and out and punched in her code to get out of the building without setting off the alarm.

She stepped outside into the warm summer evening and was confronted with a cacophony of noises: mostly sirens, somebody on a loud speaker telling people to clear the area, the roaring sounds of large vehicles. She gingerly made her way around and quickly came face to face with a threesome of military troops.

"Ma'am," and they all three held weapons on her.

"Yes, sergeant," she answered coming to a complete stop, reading his insignia. "I work in the Museum and I'm just getting off. She pointed to her service badge with her name and picture on it.

The sergeant slowly leaned in and compared the badge with the woman.

"All right. You'll need to leave this area immediately. These men will escort you."

Belle gathered that this wasn't up for discussion, so she nodded and followed the soldiers who led her around to the back of the building.

"Any way I could get out toward the front?" she asked. "My apartment is across the street."

"No ma'am. The entire mall is locked down. You'll have to go around."

She sighed. "What's happened?"

"Ma'am, you'll have to watch the news reports," one of the soldiers answered.

She couldn't walk safely and look through the news feeds on her phone, so she opted to just follow the young men who eventually deposited her on 7th Street. From there she was able to walk her way through dense traffic back to her apartment house on Maryland Avenue. It was an old Queen Anne style house, a three-story gorgeous monstrosity complete with a flamboyant paint job, gingerbread around an enormous front porch, and a fourth-story turret. Right now there was a sign, "Apartment for Rent" posted in the front yard.

Gary was already there, waiting for her, pacing, but first, she was greeted by her son, Balfour, who ran to her.

"Mom, mom, we were so worried about you." He had thrown his arms around her and was hugging her like he didn't want to let her go.

Balfour, better known as Bae, was actually her adopted son, the child of her older and only brother. Their parents had died when Bailey was twenty-one and a senior at West Point. Belle had been sixteen and had been able to find a place to live near the school. She'd finished school and gone onto college. She was in her final year when Bailey's wife had been killed in a senseless car accident. Bae was less than a year old when Belle had moved in with her brother to care for the infant, managing to finish school on the side. And then, a year later, when Bailey . . . Major Bailey French, had been killed, killed protecting his squadron and an untold number of civilians in a far off foreign country, Belle had adopted her brother's child. She was the only parent he had ever known.

Extricating herself from her son, Belle stood and accepted a warm embrace from Gary Gaston, her fiancé. "I'm so sorry, everyone," she apologized. "I've been in the back basement of the Castle cataloguing. There's no cell service down there and I had turned my phone off so it wouldn't eat battery. What's happened?" she looked up at her fiancé.

"Come on inside," Gary suggested and she followed him into the eighteenth-century house that had been converted into small apartments. Each apartment had one or two bedrooms, a single bathroom and, usually, a combination kitchen-living room area. On the ground floor, there was a large common room complete with comfy chairs, a few small tables and huge television set where many of the residents would gather to eat, play games and watch the television. It gave a sense of family amid the general isolation of the big bustling city.

And, at this moment, everyone was gathered in the common room around the big screen television.

Belle gasped. On the screen, exactly as Bae had described it – a big, white, round spaceship was sitting in the Mall between the Castle and the Natural History Museum. It had landed nearly on top of her.

In hushed tones, Gary gave her a quick summary. "Apparently, they picked it up on radar traveling four thousand gazillion miles an hour early this morning and it went around the earth several times. They were able to get a couple of aircraft near it, but nothing could keep up with it. It began to slow up mid-morning and came down here this afternoon. Soon enough the place was surrounded by police and military. They've got a couple of tanks in there."

"Any communication coming out of it?" Belle asked.

"Nothing."

The television announcer's voice came through. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began gravely. "The Government, the Defense Department, Homeland Security, among others, are concerned by reports of panic in several large cities. I have received official communication and I've been asked to assure you that so far there is no reasonable cause for alarm. The rumors of invading alien armies and mass destruction are based on hysteria and these rumors are absolutely false. I repeat – these rumors are absolutely false."

Belle could see live pictures of the ship as the announcer kept speaking. "The ship, like nothing we have seen before, landed in Washington, D.C. today exactly at noon, Eastern Standard Time. We don't know where it came from. There is, of course, rampant speculation that it is either from some unfriendly power here on earth or that it has actually arrived from another planet."

The announcer continued. "The ship is resting exactly where it landed more than six hours ago and there has been no sign of life from inside it.

Belle watched, her mouth open in astonishment. The cameras panned the platoons of infantry soldiers surrounding the ship, their rifles at the ready.

"Troops have been rushed in and they have formed a cordon around the ship."

As the camera displayed the soldiers and their guns and all their machineries, Belle whispered, "Do we believe that our weapons will be effective against a ship like this?"

Gary seemed surprised at her question, "Sure, these are our best and strongest guns."

The camera also panned along a police barrier, where hundreds of people had gathered.

More from the announcer, "The army is taking every precaution to meet whatever the situation may require. Every eye – every weapon – is trained on this ship."

"Oh Mom, look! It's opening!" said Bae and he pointed to where a thin vertical line had appeared in the pristine whiteness of the ship.

"It's opening!" shouted the announcer. "I can see something moving!"

The camera went to a close-up on the ship and the near luminescent white of the vessel filled the screen. Slowly, a ramp appeared silently out of the side of the ship and slid down to the ground. Gasps from the crowd were heard, but then everything became strangely quiet.

A man had appeared at the top of the ramp, a dark figure silhouetted against a bright, white background.

As he stepped down the ramp, it became apparent that the man . . . creature . . . was completely covered in gold colored clothing, including a helmet that obscured his head.

At first, the Spaceman just stood there without moving. And then he held up his hand. When he spoke, his voice carried through the crowd, through the camera.

"I have come to visit you in peace – and with good will."

The man slowly walked down the ramp and then stopped at the bottom of the ramp to reach inside his clothing. He pulled out a long tube and began to advance on one of the platoon leaders.

It was only after he raised the tube that a shot rang out. The Spaceman fell to the ground. The tube was dropped and it smashed.

The cameras captured the soldiers rushing over to the fallen man as the announcer repeated the obvious, "He's been shot! He's been shot!"

"Mom, look at that giant!" Bae pointed to activity in the background, noting the movement before the television reporter saw anything.

It was an enormous creature, at least eight feet tall, covered with a dull white metal that appeared to be like the material that encased the spaceship. It moved cumbersomely, yet purposefully, toward the wounded spaceman and the soldiers quickly backed away from the fallen alien.

Belle noted that there were glowing orbs where eyes might be, but nothing that resembled a mouth. "It's a robot," she surmised.

"Or some other kind of alien," Gary suggested.

The creature moved so that it stood above the injured spaceman and surveyed the crowd. The eyes began to glow red and, behind the camera, something was clearly beginning to happen. The network changed vantage and focused on the military presence that surrounded the spaceship.

Soldiers began to drop their guns as these began to glow red. Men could be seen quickly vacating tanks which were now also glowing red. The glow went from red to white and then . . . the weapons, the tanks were gone, all reduced to metal dust.

The civilians that had gathered despite the best efforts of the police and military broke and began running away, no longer a curious group. Now they were a screaming mob, determined to get away.

The news camera switched back to the robot-man who was now surveying the weaponless soldiers surrounding the ship. It centered its attention on one soldier, apparently determining that this was the one who had fired the fateful shot. It began to advance on the hapless soldier.

The Spaceman was still on the ground, but managed to raise his head, perceiving what was going on around him. _"Dove GORT, deglet ovroso!"_ the camera picked up his alien speech.

The robot-man stopped and froze in place. Seeing this, that the robot-man was no longer an immediate threat, a young colonel cautiously advanced on the wounded man.

"Sir, I want to help you," he said to the Spaceman.

The alien, for it was indeed an alien, nodded. He managed to sit up and reached to pick up one of the larger pieces of the smashed object and ruefully held it up. "Thank you. And I'm sorry, I dropped the tube. It contained cures for some of your more recalcitrant illnesses. It was a gift to the people of Earth."

"Are you all right?" the colonel asked him.

"I believe I have a small metal object lodged in my knee. It's causing me considerable discomfort. I shall need assistance getting up and walking."

The colonel got on a communicator. "Get an ambulance here. And batten down Walter Reed – that's where we'll be taking him." He turned to the alien, "Sir, we are going to take you somewhere to get help."

"Why, thank you sir," the alien replied.

The television screen went blank.

"What!? What happened?" everyone in the common room at the apartment house who was watching began asking questions. It was a few seconds before the picture came back on and the announcer somberly spoke to his audience, "We have been told that we must stop broadcasting from the Mall – National Security. What a series of events . . ." and the announcer began to recount the events of the day, culminating with the shooting of the Spaceman.

 **WALTER REED HOSPITAL**

Klaatu Rumple Stiltskin, one of the lead agents of the Klaatun, the Agency charged with First Contact and specializing in dealing with . . . ah . . . challenging planets, sat on the edge of the examining table, testing out his knee. It was going to be sore for any number of days, but he thought he'd be able to get up and begin walking on it in another day.

He was pissed.

Mostly with himself.

He had been studying these people for generations and he knew what paranoid, fragile entities they were. _It was part of his fondness for them – they reminded him so much of his own people – they had been such a wad of hairballs themselves many, many generations ago and it had taken them a while to claw their way up the evolutionary scale._

Of course, the first response of these Earthers was one of fear and, in their fear, they had shot him. His suit was constructed to protect vital organs, but extremities were vulnerable, and as luck would have it, the bullet had gone into one of his extremities. He really ought to make a note of this and have the suits modified so this type of thing wouldn't happen to any of his co-agents.

His superior hearing caught the conversation in the room next door.

"How is he?" A nice voice, unfamiliar to Rumple Stiltskin.

"He's fine. I was able to do a bit of an examination. He seems to have similar physiology but the organs are in different positions. His skin is . . . well, it's different." Rumple knew this voice – this was the doctor.

"What do you mean, different?" Nice voice.

"He's covered with these gold-green scales, sir." The doctor.

"Are you telling me that he's a little green man from outer space?" Nice voice.

 _Hah, I remember reading about that particular trope, Rumple had to smile._

"No sir. I'm just telling you that he's kinda golden-green and his skin is covered with tiny, little scales. And the eyes have a reptilian slit, not a round pupil like ours." The doctor again. "He does have five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot."

"All right. So, does he breathe oxygen and bleed red?" Nice voice.

"He breathes oxygen, but he bleeds . . . kinda green." The doctor.

"And he seems aggravated." A third voice - now this was the young colonel who'd engineered his trip to this place of healing.

"Well, hell. Somebody just shot him. I always get pretty mad whenever somebody shoots me." Nice voice.

 _Well, somebody with a brain._

"He's asking to see the President." The colonel.

"That's why I'm here." Nice voice. "He didn't drop any hints about where he's from, did he?"

"Not a one." The doctor.

"Sir, what do you want us to do about all the reporters? They're swarming all over the hospital lobby." The colonel.

Rumple listened. There was a pause.

"Tell them . . . tell them there won't be any statement tonight." Nice voice.

"They won't like that." The colonel.

"No, I don't suppose they will. But I'm not commenting when I don't have anything to say." Nice voice.

Rumple smiled. He liked this man – and he generally didn't like military or government types.

"Well," Nice voice again, "gentlemen, I'm going in."

Rumple watched the door and there was a deferential knock. _Nice – respectful and polite._

"Come in," he called out and a tall, well-dressed young man walked through. He was obviously startled by Rumple's appearance but quickly covered his reaction.

"Sir, I'm David Nolan. I'm the President's Chief of Staff and he's asked me to come to see you."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Nolan. You may address me as Klaatu."

"Mr. Klaatu . . ." David began.

"Just Klaatu. It's my title," Rumple corrected him. The two studied each other intently.

"The President asked me to convey his deepest apologies for what has happened. We all feel . . ." he struggled.

"Why don't you sit down, Mr. Nolan," suggested Rumple.

"I'm sure, I don't have to point out that your arrival is something of a surprise." Rumple gave him a slight smile and gathering courage, David continued, "Have you been traveling long?"

"About three months . . . your months."

"You must have come a long way, then?"

"About forty trillion of your miles."

David was taken a bit aback. He considered his next comment, "Naturally, we're all very curious to know where it is you come from."

"It's what you think, Mr. Nolan. I'm from another planet. Let's just say that . . . we're neighbors."

David blinked. "Uh . . . it is rather difficult for us to think of another planet as a neighbor . . . well, unless it's Mars or Venus."

"I'm not from Mars or Venus. I'm from another solar system."

"It's rather difficult for me to think that another solar system is a neighbor."

Rumple took his own deep breath. "I'm afraid, in the present circumstances, you'll have to learn to think that way."

"The present circumstances?"

"I mean . . . the reasons for my coming here."

"Well, we're very curious about that, too. Would you care to talk about it?"

"I'd be very glad to talk about, but . . . not now, not with you alone."

"Of course, perhaps you'd rather discuss it personally with the President?"

Rumple gave him a tight smile. "This is not a personal matter, Mr. Nolan. It concerns all the people on your planet. All the people."

"I'm. . . I'm not sure I understand . . ."

"I want to meet with representative from all the nations of the Earth," Rumple said simply.

Nolan sputtered, "But. . . I'm afraid that would be impossible! There are countries that have no recognized diplomatic standing and . . . well, there are the practical considerations – the time involved – the enormous distances."

"Mr. Nolan, I traveled more than forty trillion miles to have this meeting. A few thousand miles should be of little consequence when this meeting is for your own benefit." He thought for a moment. "How about your United Nations?

Nolan was again startled, "How . . how do you know about the United Nations?"

"The same way I learned to speak many of your languages, Mr. Nolan. I am responsible for this sector and I've been studying your planet for a long time. I've been getting your radio and television broadcasts for a while now."

"Oh wow," David told him. "You must have a . . . rather strange impression of us."

Rumple smiled at him. "Well, we thought there were some peculiarities in your color perception at first and there are some . . . irregularities . . . in much of what you apparently feel is entertainment."

David smiled back. "If you've been getting our broadcasts, then you know we have a deeply troubled world, with deep divisions between many people."

Rumple shook his head, "I am not concerned, Mr. Nolan, with the internal affairs of your planet. I consider these things to be your business – not mine."

"I was only hoping to make you understand . . ."

"Please understand, my mission here is not to solve your petty squabbles. It concerns the immediate fate and, ultimately, the continued existence of your entire planet."

Nolan stepped back. "Perhaps if you could explain a little . . "

"I do intend to explain, but to all the nations – simultaneously." Rumple slid off the examining table and winced – his knee was going to give him trouble for a little while. "So, how do we proceed, Mr. Nolan?" Rumple's manner did not invite disagreement. His calm manner was reinforced by the force and power of his presence.

Nolan considered. "I guess, I guess, we could call a special meeting of the General Assembly . . . but the UN doesn't represent all the nations."

"Then perhaps a meeting of all the chiefs of state?" Rumple suggested.

Nolan shook his head, "You don't understand. Many of these will not sit down at the same table – they would spend days arguing about the shape of the table."

Rumple closed his eyes. _These were a stubborn, narrow-minded people. He'd known that when he'd signed on for this mission. In so many ways, they did remind him of his own kind – many thousands of years ago – he wondered if they shared any DNA – stranger things had happened._

"Mr. Nolan, I don't want to resort to threats. I'm going to tell you as clearly and as simply as I can that the future of your planet is at stake. Perhaps that is the message you should transmit to all the countries of your world."

Mr. Nolan nodded, "All right. I will make that recommendation to the President." As he got up and walked to the door, he stopped, "I am sorry, but I must tell you in all honestly that I'm extremely dubious about getting any results."

Rumple smiled at him, "Apparently, I'm not as cynical about Earth's people as you are."

"I've been dealing in Earth's politics a good longer than you have."

"I doubt that," Rumple said quietly under his breath. _He'd known this was a strange and unreasonable world before he ever agreed to take the mission._

 _He'd been here before, of course, but it had been a long while ago. Others had visited also and found the human species to be volatile and unpredictable. Most of the Klaatun Council had voted to contain them and forego contact, simply allowing the natural course of their violent tendencies to lead them into destroying themselves. Rumple was one of the few, the very few, that thought they were salvageable and worth the effort it would take to save them, to eventually have them join the other civilized planets._


	2. First Impressions

**Chapter 2**

 **First Impressions**

 **We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them. – Albert Einstein**

 **BACK AT THE SHIP**

"Making any progress, Sergeant?" It was a Major General speaking to a soldier in plain fatigues wearing a helmet and visor. The soldier also held an acetylene torch in his hand.

The sergeant lifted his helmet. "No, sir. And it beats all. I saw that ramp come out of this side of the ship. It came out right here, but now I can't find even a crack."

The two were joined by a third man, a short, bearded man, wearing jeans and a Walking Dead tee-shirt. "You're Doctor Leroy Grumvee, the metallurgic expect?" the Major General asked the third man.

The man nodded.

"You gotta report?"

The metallurgic expert shook his head. He scratched his bald head and shrugged. "Sorta, I guess nothing to report is a report. This shell dun't react to a blow torch, acid, hell, we've tried a diamond drill. Nothin'," the gruff man told him.

"How about . . ." the Major General gestured to the robot standing sentinel, "him?"

"Well, my guess is that he's made out of the same material as the ship."

"Has he moved?" the Major General asked.

The sergeant relied, "No sir, not an inch."

"This is the toughest material I ever saw. For hardness . . . for strength . . . " the metallurgist was still shaking his head.

 **BACK AT THE HOSPITAL**

It was just past noon the next day and Dr. Whale was looking over some x-rays. He was again talking with Mr. Nolan who'd come in to check on their most prestigious patient. Nolan was now carrying a very official-looking brief case.

"Well, the skeletal structure is quite similar and that suggests his home world's gravity is the same, or close, to ours. The eyes are different, like a reptile's – that suggests his ancestors kept a little closer to the ground than did ours. As for major organs, the heart is moved down and the kidneys moved up, but everything seems to be in there. The lungs are virtually the same as ours which implies he comes from somewhere with an atmosphere similar to ours. Of course, he's breathing our air right now with no apparent difficulties." He hesitated, "And the . . . uh . . . accoutrements are virtually identical to Earth males – actually," Whale brightened up, "the guy would probably be pretty popular with the ladies if word got out."

"Really?" Nolan asked him. "You checked that out?"

"I had an alien on my examination table. You think I'm going to miss an opportunity to check out everything I can?" Victor shrugged his response. The affable doctor then turned to the young chief of staff. "Hey, how old do you think he is?" Whale asked him.

"Just from looking at him, I'd guess around forty-five, maybe fifty."

"He told me he's over a three hundred – of our years."

"Shit," Nolan said astonished. "Good genes or lifestyle?"

"He said their medicine is much more advanced. He was nice about it, but I rather felt like a third-world witch doctor tending to his injury with a drum chorus and leeches." Whale shook his head. "You know, I took a bullet out of the man's knee yesterday."

"And?" Nolan waited.

"Anybody else would still be laid up and in a great deal of pain. This morning, he's up and around on it, limping, but healing up ten times faster than a human."

"Did you ask him how he happened to heal up so quickly?"

"I did and he handed me a small tube with some salve in it. He'd had it with him at the time of the shooting and put some on the wound," and Dr. Whale held out a small white tube.

"What are you going to do with it?" Nolan asked.

"Send it to the lab for analysis," Whale told him. "Then I was thinking about getting drunk."

"I may just join you. I'm checking in with him again. I've got some bad news for him," Nolan told the doctor.

Nolan knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," he heard and Nolan opened the door to find Klaatu Rumple Stiltskin out of bed, walking around, but still favoring one leg over the other.

Nolan greeted him, surprised to find him up, "Good afternoon. I'm glad to see you up and around."

"Thank you. Do . . . you . . . have any news?"

Nolan looked down at his shoes. "I'm afraid not, sir. Well, not very good news." He opened his brief case. "The President accepted your suggestion and made a number of phone calls and sent some messages through both official and unofficial channels."

Nolan pulled out some papers and began to thumb through them. "Let me read you some of their replies, 'We will not be held hostage by what is most certainly a transparent ploy to disarm our people and leave them unprotected.'" He pulled out another paper, "'We are offended that you would think we would allow this poor Hollywood production to coerce us into any semblance of negotiations designed to undermine our sovereignty.'" He began pulling out more and more papers, "'No, not interested, appalled, another one who's offended.'" He sighed. "Well, there you have it." Mr. Nolan extended the sheaf of papers toward Rumple who ignored them. Although the alien was sitting still and quiet, it was apparent he was irritated, perhaps even angry.

"Sir, I can promise you, we did our best to make them understand the importance but there is so much mistrust . . ." Nolan began. "We've done everything in our power . . ."

"And you understand, that it is not your governments that I'm thinking about. It is . . . your world."

"But if you could understand our situation more clearly . . . . Perhaps you'd like to discuss the matter with our President?"

"I will not speak to any one nation or to a group of a few nations," Rumple insisted sharply. "I do not intend to add my contribution to your childish jealousies and suspicions."

"Sir, our problems are very complex and long-standing. Please don't judge us too harshly."

"You continue to do the same thing over and over, expecting different results," the alien responded sharply. "I can judge only by what I see and I am growing impatient."

"I understand," Nolan told him weakly.

"Do you? I'm here trying to save your planet's arse! I am impatient with the stupidity, with your close-mindedness, with your failure to understand that you are all one people."

"I'm very sorry – I wish it were otherwise," Nolan told him sincerely, depositing the stack of papers back into his briefcase. He felt like a three-year old being chastised for behavior that he should be able to control.

Rumple had turned his back on the young man and was staring out the window. He watched people - patients, nurses, visitors - all walking through the central gardens of the hospital.

He spoke slowly, as much to himself as the young man. "Before making any final decisions, perhaps I should get out among your people, re-familiarize myself with the basis for these strange, unreasoning attitudes."

Nolan was surprised, "Sir, under the circumstances, I'm afraid . . . I mean, you don't look like us and for you to go out and about . . . "

Rumple had returned his attention fully on to the young man. He didn't say anything.

Nolan continued, "Sir, I really must ask that you don't attempt to leave the hospital. Our military people have insisted on this. I'm sure you can understand."

Rumple watched the young man leave the room and close the door behind him. He heard the click of a lock and realized that he's been locked in. He sat quietly for a moment and then just smiled.

 **LATER THAN EVENING**

The cool, green hospital corridor was empty except for the heavily armed guards, standing by every door and every window. There were at least eight of them just in the immediate area and more down the other corridors. A nurse, accompanied by another guard, approached the room, carrying a food tray. The food tray was inspected by the guard at the door of the locked room, who then motioned for the room to be unlocked and allowed the nurse to enter.

"Where is he?" the nurse asked.

"What?!" the door guard pushed into the room and, after a brief search, found the room empty. After a thorough inspection of the small room, the guard made a call.

 **THE APARTMENT BUILDING**

It was a typical summer evening for Washington, D.C. Following a sweltering day, there had been a thunderstorm, a downpour that had marginally watered down the heat from the day. At the present moment, there was active thunder punctuated by the occasional lightning strike. The rain had slacked, but overall, it had been too little to sincerely cool the night, instead the moisture had turned the city into a sauna.

The man was well-dressed, perhaps a bit shorter than average and he walked with a cane, favoring one leg. He carried a single small suitcase. He approached the old Queen Anne, hesitating as he walked past the "Apartment for Rent" sign.

Inside, the residents of the house were all gathered in the common room, watching the wide screen television. There was a heated debate going on between commentators.

" _We haven't heard one more word from this so-called spaceman since the shooting. Is he dead? Is he being held hostage by our government?"_

" _Well, there are many who believe he represents a significant danger to the world's population."_

" _But isn't it strange we've heard nothing more from him? Is it possible he's escaped?"_

The small audience in the little living room gave a collective gasp.

"I'm not surprised to hear that. He's probably walking around among us, right now," one of the viewers quickly agreed.

"Yeah, I mean, if he can fly a spaceship across a gazillion miles, I bet he can just walk out of a hospital room."

"But don't you think they had guards on him?"

"He probably just phazered them all. The military is sitting on it because they don't want us all to panic."

" _Well, the President has made no effort to minimize the crisis. He's still telling people to remain calm."_

" _But we may be up against powers that are beyond our control, beyond our understanding."_

The door to the house opened and at that same moment, there was a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder. The man with the cane was silhouetted in the door frame.

Everyone gasped.

The landlady, Cora Mills, spotted the man and immediately got up to greet him. "May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am, I'm . . . Mr. Gold. I understand you have an apartment for rent," the man said to her.

"I do. I do indeed." Her eyes brushed over the man and apparently found him acceptably pleasing. "You've come at a good time, and you're lucky to have found us. I understand all the hotels are slammed full." She stopped to introduce the man to some of the residents sitting in the common room, "This is Belle French and her sweet, very quiet boy, Balfour. And this is . . ."

She was interrupted by the 'very quiet' Balfour. "Are you an FBI man?"

Mr. Gold gave the boy a gentle smile, "No . . . I'm afraid not."

"I bet you are. Or Homeland Security. I bet the Spaceman's escaped and you're out looking for him," Bae continued.

"The Spaceman's escaped?" Mr. Gold repeated the child's words.

"Yeah, that's what they were saying on the news,"

"Now Bae," Belle began. "That was just reporters talking."

"But Mom, if he'd escaped, they wouldn't be telling us, because everybody would go nuts," the boy reasoned.

"I'm sure, dear," his mother gently pulled him back. "I think we're hearing too much about this spaceman. Now, let's let Mr. Gold finish his business with Mrs. Mills."

Mrs. Mills, seeing her opportunity, stepped in. "Mr. Gold, this is Miss Azure," and a dark-haired woman who would have been pretty if she wasn't so disapproving, managed a smile at him. "And this is Mr. August." This time it was a young man sitting in front of his laptop, also disapproving, who glanced at the newcomer. "And this couple is Mr. and Mrs. King," and the younger couple stared at him.

"We tend to be more like an old-style boarding house here, but we're very updated. Each apartment is fully furnished. All of them have at least one bedroom. There's also one bathroom, along with a sitting area and a kitchenette. The price is very reasonable considering this location. The apartment I have available is on the second floor," Mrs. Mills chattered on, leading the way up the stairs.

Bae followed them, "Can I help you look for the Spaceman? I know just what he looks like. He's green with snake eyes and funny hair."

Bae's mother was right behind him. "That's enough, Bae. I think it's time you got your bath and began to get ready for bed."

Mrs. Mills turned to the child. "We mustn't annoy Mr. Gold – or he won't want to stay here." She tried, but failed, the keep the annoyance out of her own voice.

Belle winced, but caught the eye of Mr. Gold, who gave her a small smile. She smiled back – _well, she could certainly see why Mrs. Mills might be interested in the man. He exuded an aura of power and competence – and all in a very nice package._ Belle then dropped back in the hallway, holding onto her son. Her and Bae's apartment was across the hall from the empty apartment.

Mrs. Mills continued to talk as she led the way to the room. "He really is a dear, sweet boy." She got to the room, preparing to unlock it and turned to Mr. Gold. "You're a long way from home, aren't you?" she asked him.

Mr. Gold stopped in his tracks, "How did you know?"

"Oh, I can spot a British accent a mile away."

Mr. Gold just nodded and smiled.

 **Saturday Morning**

Belle French sat in her room listening to the news on her small television set. _More about the spaceman._

" _And so the question, this Saturday morning, we ask the question that's been plaguing the entire nation for two days now. Where is the spaceman? Why hasn't he been seen or heard from since the incident on the Mall? If he can build a spaceship that can fly to Earth – and a robot that can destroy our tanks and guns – what other terrors can he unleash at will? The rumors are rampant that he has escaped military custody and is walking among us. What is he doing? What is he up to? If the military can't produce him and assure us that he is under their lock and key, we must assume that he out among us. A dangerous monster, ladies and gentlemen, one that must be tracked down like a wild animal and destroyed."_

"Oh, good grief," Belle shook her head.

The knock on the door was welcomed. Belle assumed it was Gary. She was expecting him and she called out, "Door's open. Come on in."

It wasn't him. She turned and saw the new tenant, Mr. Gold, standing in her doorway. She found herself looking him over. It was certainly not unusual to see a man dressed in a suit in Washington, D.C., but this man wore one well. Three pieces, silk shirt, tie tack. It had been tailored to fit him and tailored well, molding to his slim body. _Nice, really nice._

 _She reminded herself that she was supposed to be an engaged woman._

 _Well . . . even then, that didn't mean she was dead. She could still admire an attractive man . . . maybe even engage in a little harmless fantasizing._

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." He was apologizing, standing at her opened door. "I had knocked, several times, but you didn't seem to hear me."

"I'm sorry. I was preoccupied with . . . this," she pointed to the television.

" _And we must ask ourselves, where would such a creature hide? Would he disappear into the north woods? Or would he slither off into the sewers of some great city?"_

"I was wondering if you could assist me," Mr. Gold began.

" _There is grave danger – everyone agrees to that. The question is what can we do to protect ourselves? What measures can we take that will . . ."_

Belle reached over and changed the station.

"I'm sorry. This stuff seems to be on every channel. There seems to be the automatic assumption that he's a menace," she told her guest wearily.

Mr. Gold looked at her. "You don't think he is?" he asked softly.

"Well, after the reception he got, I can certainly understand why he would walk away from the hospital, if he could, and, absolutely, why he would go into hiding."

Mr. Gold nodded, "Perhaps before deciding on a course of action, he'd want to know more about the people here, to orient himself in a strange environment."

" _Dr. Nicholas Rush, renown theoretical physicist and guest lecturing for a semester at Georgetown, has invited fellow scientists from all over the world to meet with him in Washington to study the recently landed spaceship."_

Belle sighed and turned off the television. "How can I help you?"

But before he could answer, there was another knock on her door. This time it was Gary. "Belle, darling," not waiting for an invitation, the man came on into her apartment. Gary was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He carried himself like the pampered quarterback of the football team, _which he had been in high school,_ assuming all other men would accept him as a leader and all women would desire him.

"Gary," Belle greeted him. There was an awkward moment as the two men looked each other over. "Oh, Gary, this is my new neighbor, uh . . . Mr. Gold. He has the apartment across the hall. Mr. Gold, this is my fiancé Gary Gaston," she made introductions.

"We are all set, darling. I picked up some wine and put gas in the car. If you've got the picnic basket packed, we can have a day away from the city and the never-ending spaceman talk," Gary told her.

"Oh darling," Belle was concerned. "There is one thing – I haven't been able to arrange for anyone to stay with Bae." She turned her large blue eyes on her fiancé, "I don't suppose we could take him with us?"

Gary was obviously not happy, "Weee-eelll, I guess we could . . ."

"I know, there's usually someone here in the building, but I checked and today, everyone has plans," Belle continued to make her case.

"I haven't any plans," Mr. Gold said softly. Belle and Gary both turned to him, surprised.

"Ms. French, I had come over here to see if you might have some suggestions of interesting places in Washington I could visit. I wanted to do some sightseeing. I'd be glad to have the boy for the day . . . if you'd be all right with that."

"Hey, that sounds great!" Gary was instantly agreeable.

"But . . ." began Belle. She looked long and hard at Mr. Gold. She didn't know the man and wasn't sure about turning her child over to him.

"Balfour is a handful, Mr. Gold," she warned him. "He talks continually and will pester you to death with his questions."

"I know," Mr. Gold smiled at her. "Yesterday evening, after his bath, Balfour came over to my room and we listened to the television together. We had some interesting . . . discussions. If he's willing, I would appreciate him showing me the city."

Belle hesitated. _She hadn't known that Bae had visited with Mr. Gold. She thought that after his bath, he'd gone downstairs to work on a puzzle in the Common Room, his usual pursuit in the evenings before settling down to bed._ She considered. This was a comparative stranger, even though she had a generally favorable impression of the man. "Suppose I ask Bae how he would feel about it," she finally replied _trusting her gut reaction to the man – believing, after all, the only really valuable thing is intuition._

 _Rumple had decided that he liked this young woman, really liked her. She was obviously intelligent and, he thought, likely kind. And he thought her packaging was pleasantly pleasing. She also emitted a combination of delightful pheromones. To someone of his heightened senses, he thought it likely that her levels were so high and so strong that he could actually determine her moods, even some of her thoughts, from the scents she emitted._

 _All these Earthers emanated pheromones, so much that the planet was awash in them. Interesting, perhaps because there were so many smells at any one time, most of the natives ignored these ever-present cues. The young woman, Miss French, however, stood out to him, stood out in a very favorable manner._

 _He might have considered pursuing her but, even allowing that behavior would be out of character for him as a Delegate, he also recognized that she had been claimed by another man._

 **TOUR OF THE CITY**

It had been a long, eventful morning. By lunchtime, Mr. Gold and Bae had made their way to the Lincoln memorial. Mr. Gold read the inscription.

"and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth," Mr. Gold read. "Those are great words." He looked up at the statue of Lincoln. "He must be a great man."

"You don't know about Abraham Lincoln?" Bae asked him.

Mr. Gold shook his head, "I didn't. I would like to meet him."

Bae was confused, "You do know he's dead, right?"

Mr. Gold seemed surprised, but quickly recovered. "Why . . . yes, of course. But he is the kind of man I would still like to meet." He thought a moment, "Balfour, who's the greatest man in your country today?"

Bae thought before answering. "Do you mean the smartest?"

"Yes, that would do nicely."

"Oh, that's easy. I heard mom say that Dr. Rush was the smartest guy around. She has to keep up with important stuff that people do and write and catalog everything for the Smithsonian, where she works. She's looked at some of his stuff and said he was brilliant."

Mr. Gold seemed to consider this information. _He remembered hearing something on the television in Miss French's apartment._ "Dr. Rush lives here in Washington, doesn't he?"

"Sure, he's right down the street from here, near where my mom works."

"Where is it that she works?" Mr. Gold asked for clarification.

"The Smithsonian. She works in the part that's called The Castle. It's not really a castle though. She's works in the dungeon, well, except it's not really a dungeon. It's in the basement and everything the Smithsonian is going to put on exhibit goes through her so she can catalogue it."

"I think I understand."

"Mr. Gold," Bae was hesitant.

"Yes, Balfour?"

"Can we go see the spaceship?


	3. So Inappropriate

**Chapter 3**

 **So Inappropriate**

 **If we knew what it was we were doing, it wouldn't be called research. – Albert Einstein**

 **THE MALL**

A sturdy barrier had been put up, but there was still the potential for sightseers to gather around to gape at the large, white ship.

The eight-foot tall robot stood still in front of the ship, not having moved since he first came out of the ship.

"Wow," Bae was impressed with the size of the ship and the robot. "What do you think they're putting around the robot?"

Mr. Gold looked closely at the activity all around the GORT. "Well, it looks like they're trying to confine it in some type of metal enclosure."

"Gosh, do you think that will work?"

Mr. Gold slowly shook his head and smiled ruefully, "No, I'm afraid there's nothing here on earth that is strong enough to hold back that robot."

"It looks like he's strong enough to knock down a whole building."

Mr. Gold gave him a soft smile, "I wouldn't be surprised at all."

"Is he made outta the same metal as the ship?" Bae asked him.

"Yes," Gold confirmed. "It's very strong and virtually invulnerable."

Bae stared for a moment before commenting wistfully, "I'd like to get inside and see how it all works. What do you think makes it go?"

Mr. Gold glanced around. "I would imagine it's a type of atomic power."

"Like cold fusion?" Bae asked him.

"What do you know about cold fusion?" he was surprised the child had made this suggestion.

"Uh . . . I've been reading about it. It sounds like it would be the best energy source for traveling out in space."

"It is an excellent energy source," Mr. Gold agreed with the child.

"How fast do you think it can go?" Bae asked.

"Well, if it travels between solar systems, it has to go very, very fast, even if it avails itself of wormholes."

"I know all about wormholes," Bae told him. "So, how does it slow up enough to stop?"

Gold was about to reply when two men standing next to him and the child start to laugh.

"Keep going, Mister. The kid was buying it," one of them said to Gold.

"He is a bright boy," Gold replied _brighter than the two goons that had intruded on him and the child_. He and Bae made their way away from the ship.

"Do you think he's really escaped?" Bae asked him.

"I don't know," Gold replied.

"My mom thinks he has and he's out checking us out, to find out more about us," Bae told him. "She thinks we shouldn't have shot him right after he landed – that probably made him mad, but then he calmed down and decided to give us a second chance."

"A second chance for what?" Gold was curious as to Bae's remarkable mother's insights.

"To show him that we can be smart and make good decisions."

 _Gold was pleasantly surprised at Belle French's insights – and Bae who had retained the ideas._

"You think they'll ever find him? I mean, if he has escaped," Bae asked him.

Gold faltered. "I . . . I don't know, Bae. I'm inclined to doubt they will." Gold stopped a moment and looked around. "Would you like to get something to eat?"

"I would. Mom gave me twenty dollars."

Gold hesitated. "Bae, is there somewhere I might go to exchange some things of value for money. I'm afraid I gave my ready cash to Mrs. Mills to pay for the room and I don't have any more currency at the moment."

Bae looked at him. "You mean you don't have any money?"

"No, but I do have this . . . and these," and he reached into his pocket to pull out some threads of what appeared to be spun gold and several different colored stones.

"Wow, that looks like gold and that looks like a diamond, and a ruby, and a sapphire!"

"These have value where I'm from and usually I can find someone who will exchange them for me."

Bae considered. "Well, maybe a pawnshop, but looking at this," he held a pea-sized diamond up in his fingers, allowing the sun to reflect off the clean-cut facets, "you might do better going to Fischer's Jewelry Store. She sells the nicest stuff. I know that's where Gary goes whenever mom is mad at him and he buys her something to make up."

And Bae led Gold to the small, but posh store that clearly specialized in high-end jewelry. Miss Fischer, the owner, was an attractive older woman, a cool Nordic blonde. She was initially unimpressed with the offer, but deigned to look over the stones that Mr. Gold produced from his pocket.

A quick examination and she looked up at him, surprised and obviously interested. "Where did you get these?" she asked him. "This is almost a three-carat diamond . . . and it looks perfect."

"Family business. We have a few sources for stones of this quality," he evaded her question.

"I can give you 20,000 for the diamond. That's all the money I have on hand. If you are willing to come back tomorrow, we can negotiate for the other items," she told him.

"Is 20,000 a lot?" Gold asked Bae, who quickly nodded. "Will that pay for our lunch?"

"About two thousand times," Bae told him.

"Very well." He turned back to Miss Fischer. "I am not sure if I will be able to get back here tomorrow. My schedule is a bit chaotic at the moment."

"Please try. And if you can't get back tomorrow, another day would work. I'm very interested in purchasing those other stones," she said.

 **LUNCH**

Bae took him out for hot dogs from a small street diner with a lot of patrons.

"I like the Chili Half Smoke," Bae advised him. "It's a little hot," he then warned the man.

Gold took the child's recommendation and the two took their food and sat on a bench along the sidewalk and Bae watched in wonder as the man ate the spicy hot dog with no difficulties.

"This is remarkable," Gold told him.

"What? You never had a hot dog before?"

Gold shook his head. "No," then he paused. "They aren't composed of actual canines, are they?"

Bae laughed. "Nah, I think they were named dogs because they had the same shape as sausage dogs, Daschunds. I think these are all beef, soooo, that would mean that they're made from cows. The chili is made from cows, or maybe pigs"

Gold stopped eating. "These are made from animals?"

"Uh huh," Bae told him.

Gold was obviously not comfortable consuming the rest of the meal. He put the hot dog aside and focused on the fries that had come with the meal. He held one of the fries up, "These are a root vegetable?"

"They're potatoes, so yeah," Bae agreed.

"And they have been . . . fried?"

"Yup," Bae confirmed his guess.

"Hummm, frying – easily one of humanities greatest contributions to culinary arts."

The two finished their lunches and Gold asked, "Is Doctor Rush's house nearby? Do you know?"

"Yeah, it's the white house down the street," Bae shared, then clarified, "The little white house, not the big white house."

"The big white house?"

"Yeah, the President's house," Bae explained.

"What would you say to us dropping by and visiting with the good doctor?"

Bae looked suspiciously at Mr. Gold. "You're just kidding, aren't you?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Wouldn't you like to meet him?"

"Yeah, of course. I want to be a theoretical physicist when I grow up, just like Dr. Rush. But . . . well, we're not going to be able to get in to see him." Bae considered. "I think it would be scary to meet him, I mean, he's like, maybe, the smartest guy in the whole world."

"Well," began Mr. Gold, "perhaps we can scare him more than he can scare us."

Bae's face lit up. "Let's go then."

 **AT RUSH'S HOUSE**

It was a grand old two-story house built on a hillside so that the back of the house was below street level. Nicholas Rush was renting it while on sabbatical from Cal Tech. He was guest lecturing at Georgetown University where his wife was undergoing some experimental treatments for her advancing cancer at the school's medical center.

When no one answered the front door, Bae and Mr. Gold decided to walk around the house and ended up in the back of the house, standing on a stone patio looking through a large glass door. They could see into what was likely Rush's office, a cluttered room filled with piles of papers and books and several large white boards covered with esoteric mathematical symbols. There was a narrow daybed shoved up against the wall which was half-covered with a rumpled quilt.

Clearly Dr. Rush often slept in this room.

"Wow," Bae said, looking over the white boards. "I don't even know what most of those signs mean," he confessed.

"Well, I see a number of statistical, calculus . . . vector . . . matrices . . . signs . . ." began Gold.

"Gosh, do you know all those?" Balfour asked him.

"Why, yes, yes, I do." Mr. Gold looked closely at one of the boards.

"What are they about?"

"Celestial mechanics," Mr. Gold told him.

"I guess, Dr. Rush is the only one who knows the answer."

"Not really, Balfour. He's close, but he doesn't know the answer." Mr. Gold shook his head. "And he'll never get it the direction he's going." Gold jiggled the handle of the glass door and found it was locked.

"Well, I guess we need to come back another time," Bae told him.

"Maybe not," Mr. Gold replied and pulled out what might be a cellphone. He pointed it at the door and then looked at the screen. He touched the screen several times as if he was putting in information and then held it to the door.

When he tried the door again, it opened.

"We're breaking in?!" Bae asked.

"In a manner of speaking, but we aren't taking anything. We're leaving something," Mr. Gold explained. He walked in and picked up a red marker. He began to place check marks near several calculations and then began to add some additional symbols in one corner of the board. Satisfied, he then added the words 'Gold' and 'Ms. Mill's Apartments' to the same board.

"That should be sufficient," he told Bae and they left, but not before Mr. Gold held up his small device to the door again.

"This has been a good day, Mr. Gold," Bae observed as they walked back to the apartment house.

"Perhaps we can do it again, Balfour. I enjoyed myself. Perhaps," and Mr. Gold hesitated, "I would like to pay you for taking up your entire day with me. Is that . . . appropriate?"

"We-ell," Bae hesitated. "Probably, my mom should be paying you, since you were babysitting me," the child told him honestly.

"But you provided a service, a valuable one to me," Gold persisted. "I think that it is worth something." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two of the sapphires, "Here, these match your mother's eyes."

Bae took the sparkling stones and turned them in his hand. He was in a moral quandary: should he take something worth much more than Mr. Gold knew they were worth or should he refuse the man's generous offer? He pocketed the stones. _He might need to talk about this with his mother._

It was late afternoon and the two had returned to the apartment house. Mr. Gold sat with Bae who showed him some of the things he had built with his Legos. It was just before five when Ms. French returned. Mr. Gold greeted her and then went back across the hall to his own apartment.

 **10 O'CLOCK**

It was ten o'clock that evening when he heard a knock on his door.

It was the delectable Ms. French.

"Is everything all right?" Mr. Gold asked.

"Everything is fine. I . . . I . . ." she began slowly. _It hadn't been easy for her to come over here. For some strange reason, she felt nervous around this man – the feelings she'd had when he'd first come into her apartment had simmered most of the day. Although she had been out with Gary, she kept finding herself thinking about Mr. Gold – and how much nicer it might have been to be out with him instead of her bombastic fiancé. She seemed to have an almost visceral attraction to the man but, she had scolded herself, she was too old to be having crushes._

"Why don't you step inside?" he suggested gently and she stepped into his place. _Her pheromones washed over him. She was unsure of herself._

"I hope it's not too late. I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Bae today."

Mr. Gold seemed relieved. _She was more attractive than he'd allowed himself to remember – light, airy, yes, she was very attractive. He pulled himself back to the moment at hand._ "Well, thank you. I enjoyed myself. Balfour is a bright young man."

Belle sighed. "So I've been told," she muttered, not meeting his eyes, _his very pretty, golden flecked brown eyes._ "He's not always the easiest person . . . well . . . Bae can be . . . challenging. I'd made a decision to take him out of public school and enroll him in a special private school for gifted children, but . . . he's not happy there either. He says that while some of the children are nice, a lot of them are mean . . . stuck-up or bullies or both . . . they say mean things rather than physically threatening him." _Oh lord, she was rambling._

She looked up and Gold noticed her eyes were bluer than he remembered . . . and they were swimming in tears. _The pheromones now were grief and sadness and . . . indecision._

"I'm sorry . . ." she sniffed. "I shouldn't be burdening you with this . . . with my problems. I really just came over to say that Bae had told me that he'd had a great time with you."

"And you . . . did you have a great time . . . with Mr. Gaston?" Gold asked her. She was standing close _too close_ to him and on a deep and purely sensual level, he was enjoying basking in the clean, clear essence of this lovely woman.

She didn't reply right away. "I . . . Mr. Gaston and I . . . we seem to be in different places in our relationship."

"What does that mean?" He really wasn't sure.

"He wants to get married and have me be the stay-at-home mom, the housekeeper, the decorator, the hostess . . . and that's not me."

"That's not what you want to do?" he questioned. _It was sounding to him as if she wasn't agreeable to being claimed by this man, Gaston. He wasn't sure with human females - did they have the option to refuse a man who proclaimed interest?_

 _He certainly hoped they were free to refuse a man with whom they weren't enamored. It would speak more highly of the species._

"Oh . . . no . . . well, I guess not," she continued. "I really enjoy my job. I trained long and hard and I beat out well over a hundred other applicants for it. I mean, I work at the Smithsonian, for Pete's sake. Perhaps . . . perhaps if he was offering me the chance to travel . . . well, then . . . . ." She perked up. "You see, I've always wanted to travel, go to all these exotic places and . . ." She suddenly seemed to realize she was over-sharing again. "I'm sorry. This is all my life. I'm dealing with it."

"Here, I believe the protocol for this is for me to fix you a drink. I have something," he picked up a bottle of dark red wine. "Pinot Noir," he told her and she nodded. He opened the bottle and poured them both some of the sweet rich wine.

"This is lovely," she accepted a glass and sat down on his sofa. He joined her holding his own glass of wine.

"Of course," he smoothly agreed. "Balfour did tell me he wants me to see where you work and the Air Museum and the Natural History Museum and, I think, about four other places."

"The Air and Space Museum," she automatically supplied the correct name. "He told me, too. He's hoping you two can go out again tomorrow, but I tried to tell him that you have your own business to attend to . . ."

Mr. Gold smiled at her. "Actually, seeing Washington is part of my business. If you can spare Balfour one more day, I would appreciate him serving as my guide."

"Oh, I couldn't . . . I shouldn't. . . I mean, I still don't really know anything about you." She gave a short laugh, "You know what Bae thinks you are, don't you?"

"Last I heard, he thought I was FBI or Homeland Security."

"Well," Belle was smiling at him now, the tears dried up, "he's now convinced that you are the spaceman."

"Really?" Gold responded slowly. "Why . . . why does he think that?"

"Well, his evidence, such as it is, is that you didn't know who Abraham Lincoln was. I tried to explain that you're not from here, so you wouldn't have studied Lincoln when you were in school. He'd said you'd never eaten a hot dog and, again, I tried to help him understand that you might come from someplace where they don't have hot dogs. He also said you were . . ." she hesitated and looked at him . . . "you were 'odd' about money. You took out some gold thread and some jewels and he took you to a jewelry story. He said you sold a diamond for a 'wad of cash.'"

"Yes, that's correct. I find it easier to carry precious stones and gold than cash, since I travel a great deal and currency changes from one place to another. Gold is usually accepted universally. If not gold, then diamonds, rubies or sapphires work well."

"Well, don't let Gary know you're carrying gold, diamonds, rubies and sapphires – he'll be convinced that you're an international jewel thief." She looked at him again. "You really carry gold and diamonds and stuff?" she asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out some gold thread and several shining stones.

"Oh, my word!" she was stunned.

"I can sell these as I need to and buy basic comforts," he told her.

"A bit more than basic comforts," she told him. "You've got a small fortune in your hand."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The room was dim and the two settled into comfortable chairs, sitting still next to each other, sipping the wine.

"Where did you get the wine?" she asked him.

"Mrs. Mills. She said something about it being a, what did she call it? . . . a Welcome Wagon gift," he told her.

"Uh . . . Mr. Gold. You might want to watch out for Mrs. Mills."

"Why is that?" he was immediately wary.

"She can be rather . . . aggressive with gentlemen she finds attractive," Belle tactfully responded.

"Aggressive? Will she attack me?" He wasn't understanding.

"In a manner of speaking. She might try to get you in a compromising position." The man still looked puzzled. "She might jump you." He still was confused. Belle spoke plainly, "She might try to have sex with you."

"Oh," he said, some comprehension dawning. "And that would be . . . inappropriate?" _Would it be possible for a female to pursue a male who was not interested? Why would she do such a thing?_

"Well, not if you're interested," Belle was nearly laughing. "Are you . . . are you interested . . . in Mrs. Mills?" _Now why had she asked that?_

 _Belle was struggling. She was supposed to be Gary's fiancé, but she was quickly realizing that she didn't want to be. And here, now, with the enigmatic Mr. Gold, she was fast realizing that she could be seriously attracted to other men, certainly she was attracted to this man. Even having just met this man, she was finding him fascinating – she thought him very attractive, not in Gary's big muscle way, but with an intellectual intensity that pulled her in. This didn't feel like a simple crush, a passing fancy, or a momentarily distracting fantasy._

"No, no," he answered her slowly. "I'm not interested in . . . Mrs. Mills." _Ms. French, however, interested him considerably. If she had been one of his own people, he would be seriously considering sharing his interest, perhaps even going so far as to offer his services, all of his services, to her._

Still nervous, Belle looked around and the view outside of his room caught her eye. She got up to look out the window at the night street view of the city.

"My goodness! You have a much better view in here than I have. I just look at the side of the next house. It's beautiful!" she said staring out.

"It is," Mr. Gold confirmed. He had also risen and was standing next to her. When she glanced over to him, she saw that he wasn't looking out the window. He was looking at her. She felt herself growing hot and realized that she was blushing.

She wasn't sure what to say. He spoke very softly, "So Balfour thinks I'm the spaceman. What do you think?" He was standing very close to her.

"I . . . I wouldn't venture a guess."

Very close.

Belle realized she was feeling . . . _something._ She had become hyperaware of the man, his physical presence seeming to wrap around her, consuming the oxygen that she was breathing.

"If you were to find out that I was this spaceman, I am curious. What would you do?" His voice was soft against her ear.

"I don't know. I guess I would try to find out why you were here, what you wanted from us."

"You wouldn't automatically assume that I was the headwaters of an alien invasion?"

"I wouldn't dismiss such a thing, but I don't know that I would automatically assume this. I mean, if you were an invader, why wouldn't you have just come in guns blazing and with more than one guy?"

Mr. Gold nodded. "Uh hummm," he muttered. _He was more familiar with the pheromones she was releasing now – heat, openness, receptiveness. Were she a female of his own kind, the invitation would have been unmistakable – yes, he would definitely have made an offer. But with a human female – he just wasn't sure. Nonetheless, the allure was nearly overpowering._

He seemed to have moved in so closely that he was now standing, almost touching her, right next to her. _He wondered if she was capable of detecting his own pheromones._

 _Belle closed her eyes. She was having trouble breathing. No air. No air. The man standing this close in the darkened room should not be affecting her like this._

She felt his breath on her neck and realized he was smelling her, deeply breathing in her essence. And then his lips were on that delicate point where her neck concaved out to her shoulder and she felt his tongue delicately tracing up her neck _he was tasting her._ Then his fingers were on her cheek, turning and lifting her head to his and his thumb traced over her lips. He dropped his lips onto hers and the kiss was light, soft . . . and intoxicating.

He stopped. He dropped his hand.

"I'm sorry, Ms. French. That was . . . so inappropriate."

Belle couldn't stop herself. She turned to fully face him and put her arms around him. Standing on her toes, she raised herself up and kissed him, nudging his mouth open and quickly feeling him respond, his arms going around her, pulling her in to him.

The kiss showed the promise of true passion, rendering her dizzy and limp. When they pulled apart, she whispered, "That was so inappropriate of me. I guess we're even."

He looked at her and gave her a slight smile. "I would like to continue being inappropriate," he told her in a soft, husky voice. She nodded, leaning into him. They both enjoined in another kiss and she felt herself growing hot under his efforts which began soft, yet sure, quickly taking on a possessiveness she'd not ever experienced before. His mouth was locked on her mouth and she was tasting him, sweet wine and warm spice and hot . . . something else . . . the man himself, she guessed. She'd lost strength in her legs and knew she was clinging to him.

 _Gary had never kissed her like this._

 _No one had ever kissed her like this._

She was barely aware of his hand trailing up along her neck, first becoming aware of this when she felt a vague tingling, a very pleasant tingling, a very pleasant tingling, indeed.

Something disturbed them. It took them both a moment. There was someone at his door, knocking and calling his name.


	4. We Understand Violence

Note to Gustir (Guest): hope you're not too disappointed with this chapter – This is not a Stargate crossover or a Rushbelle fic by any stretch. I do enjoy the occasional Rushbelle fic as much as anyone and I've written two Rushbelle drabbles– _Darkness and Light_ and _Encounter_ (both are on this fanfiction site). - twyla

 **Chapter 4**

 **We Understand Violence**

 **Do not worry about your difficulties in mathematics. I can assure you mine are still greater. -Albert Einstein**

There was someone at the door.

They had been kissing and now someone was at the door. They pulled back from each other.

"Ms. French," Mr. Gold apologized, blinking his eyes and taking a moment to recover his composure. "So sorry," he whispered and he parted from her to go and open the door. There were three men, all dressed in nondescript plain black suits, with white shirts and black ties.

"Mr. Gold. We're with Homeland Security. We'd like you to come with us, please."

"Of course," Mr. Gold responded. "May I ask where you are taking me?"

"To someone who wants to meet with you," one of the men responded.

Mr. Gold turned to Belle. "Ms. French, I trust you to let yourself out."

And he was gone.

Belle stood for a moment in the man's apartment. _He had kissed her . . . heck, she had kissed him. And it was intensely arousing to the point that there had been a moment when she had wondered if it might be possible to come just from somebody kissing you._

She considered. She knew she should go right back to her apartment. But she also wondered what she might find if she snooped around.

Mr. Gold was quite the mystery – a man who carried gold thread and precious jewels as currency, a man who didn't know who Abraham Lincoln was, a man who had never had a hot dog . . . a man who had been kind to her child. Heck – maybe he was an international jewel thief.

She resisted the impulse to poke around his room and returned to her own room.

 **DR. RUSH**

"The Professor said you made marks on his whiteboard."

Gold had been led to a nondescript building to a nondescript room. It wasn't a particularly clean room – too much furniture, stacked with disorganized folders and papers, chairs with worn finishes that were scuffed and had tears in their vinyl upholstery. It was also dimly lit. Not particularly imposing. The man sat at a desk across from him.

"I was trying to be helpful. He was having difficulty with a problem," Gold responded. _He thought he finally had his head back in the game after the intense oral stimulation he'd engaged in with the delectable Ms. French. She'd stirred feelings he'd forgotten he was capable of having. She'd made him feel younger . . . and virile . . . and there had been a primitive rush of possessiveness and protectiveness – he very much wanted to have this female. The fresh evening air had helped him clear his thoughts._

"Oh," said the officer. "Dr. Rush was having trouble and you were just helping him out."

Not recognizing the sarcasm, Gold responded pleasantly, "That's right."

"You do know that Rush does a lot of secret work for the military?"

"Well, in this case, the secret isn't worth much. Rush doesn't know the answer."

"Oh, and I suppose you do?"

"Well . . . yes. It's not difficult – the three factors can be brought into balance with the right application of thrust and spin."

The officer glanced at the other two men in black. They shrugged and the man blinked.

"All right, Gold, is it? Do you have any ID?"

"ID?"

"Identification. Driver's License, Voter's Registration, Passport, Green Card, hell, I'd take a library card at this point."

"Ooooh," Gold understood. He smiled and shook his head, "No, I don't have anything like that."

"So, how do we know who you really are?"

"You don't," Gold answered him. "But, Dr. Rush knows and it's important that I see him."

"Yeah, well, my job is to protect Dr. Rush from people who can't prove who they are," said the man tartly.

"Why don't you call Dr. Rush. I think he'll want to see me whether I can prove anything or not," Gold told him patiently.

The man glared at him. But he picked up the phone. "Rush? . . . .Yeah, I'm sitting with him now. . . . Are you sure? . . . I mean, we don't know . . . You're sure . . . All right . . . . All right . . . . We'll bring him over." Mr. Gold could hear someone on the other end of the phone speaking loudly and angrily with colorful invectives punctuating his comments.

The man hung up and continued to glare at Gold. The officer looked up as the other two men entered the room and he nodded.

"Take him over to Rush's. Don't leave his side."

Gold rode in a plain black Cadillac through the streets of Washington D.C. They pulled into the driveway of a now familiar older home and one of the men opened the car door for Gold.

This time, when Gold knocked on the front door, there was an answer. A disheveled, scruffy-looking man answered. He was wearing blue jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt along with a pair of Birkenstocks. He needed a shave.

"You Gold?" he asked.

"I am."

"Great, come on in."

The officers attempted to follow, but the world-renowned physicist shooed them away. "No, I'm seeing him alone."

"But sir, we're to stay with him."

"No fuck it, you're not. He's here to see me," Rush insisted, backing the officers down. "Mr. Gold," he turned his attention to the man he wanted to see. "Come with me."

Rush lead Gold in through his house and down the stairs into the room off the patio. "I got back this afternoon and found that my security system was still intact, but someone had obviously gotten into the house." He looked back at Gold. "They had left a message on one of my boards."

"It was a clumsy way to introduce myself – but I understand that you're a difficult man to see." Gold looked over the board and saw some new work that had been completed by Dr. Rush. "I would have thought you'd've had the solution by now."

"Not yet, but I'm getting there," Rush told him with a smile.

Gold assessed the other man. He was intense, high-energy, but . . . he also seemed, perhaps, haunted and certainly distracted. Gold nodded at the man's assessment of his progress, "Yes, yes, you are." Then he pointed to one of the expressions in an equation. "All you have to do now is substitute this expression," and he pointed to another place on the board, "at this point."

Rush looked over the board, "Yes, that would reproduce the first-order terms. But what about the effect on the other terms?

Gold shrugged, "Almost negligible. With some need for occasional adjustments, this is the answer."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I find that it works well enough to get me from one planet to another."

Rush looked at his guest and shook his head, "Well, fuck, yeah." The scientist sat down and studied his guest. "I guess I somehow thought you'd be eight-feet tall and blue or, if not that, perhaps a little green guy."

Gold smiled at him and sat down. "Probably closer to the little green guy without the disguise I'm toting around," he confessed.

"Really?!" Rush seemed surprised at the remark.

"I understand you've called a meeting to study my spaceship," Gold said.

"I have, yes, I have. Wha . . . what do I call you?"

"The best approximation of my name is Rumple. I am one of a group of select ambassadors called the Klaatun. My title is Klaatu."

Rush sat down, digesting the information. "So, Klaatu Rumple, why me?"

"Your reputation is that you are one of the smartest men on this planet. I need to speak with smart people, to help them understand why I am here, so they, in turn, can speak with everyone else."

Rush ran his fingers through his hair, considering everything that he'd just learned. "I don't know that I'm the smartest. It's just that I stay with problems longer," he replied.

"Do you intend to turn me over to the military?" Gold asked him.

"Hell, no," Rush answered. "I'm not a fan of those bastards. They've interfered with my work way too often." He got up and poured himself a drink - whiskey. He held up the glass to Gold, "Want one?"

"I believe I will," Gold told him.

The two men sat still, drinking, looking at, measuring each other. There were certainly some physical similarities between the two men. Both were a bit less than average height, slender, with brown eyes. Both projected strong, focused personalities and keen intelligence.

"You do have intellect, Doctor Rush," Gold observed.

"It's not intellect that makes a good scientist, Klaatu Rumple. It's character . . . and curiosity."

The two men sipped the fine whiskey

"You must know, I have several thousand questions to ask you," Rush told him.

"I would prefer to tell you something of my mission to your world," Gold said.

Rush smiled, "Actually, that was my first question."

"It was my intention to discuss this officially – with all the nations of the Earth - but I will not be allowed this opportunity. I have come to realize that your mutual fears and suspicions are typical of the reactions of a . . . of a primitive society. However, we know from our observations that you have discovered a rudimentary kind of atomic energy and you have functional rockets, enough to carry you to your moon and to nearby planets, even to sending satellites out of your solar system."

"Yeah. Some of us questioned the wisdom of advertising our presence, but we were overruled."

"Your technology, in the hands of a mature, responsible culture, would not be considered a problem. But," he hesitated, "in the hands of your people . . . " He seemed sad as he explained, "Your people are too aggressive and we don't trust you to be able to handle the power you have at your disposal."

"You're not telling me that your people are afraid of us. . . ?"

"We want to be sure you don't make . . . well, shall we say . . . any unfortunate mistakes. We can't approve of an unsupervised toddler being allowed to roam the neighborhood with a loaded gun, if you can accept the analogy. As long as you kept your fighting and conflict among yourselves, we were unconcerned. But soon, soon you will apply your atomic energy to spaceships and then, then you will be a threat to the peace and security of other worlds. And we cannot tolerate this."

Rush took another drink. "These other worlds – do they have peace and security?"

"Most of us have our own histories of wars but slowly, we have have learned that fighting is never a solution. Aggression, war, these lead not to peace but to chaos."

"As a scientist, even a primitive one, I understand what you are saying. It is, as Einstein observed, appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity. So where does this leave us? Why are you here, Klaatu Rumple?"

"I am here to warn you that, because of your continued aggressive tendencies, your planet faces danger – very grave danger. I'm talking total destruction of all human life."

Rush finished his drink and poured himself a second one.

"So, you're telling me – what? we're screwed, blued and tattooed?" he asked.

Gold shook his head and gave a rueful smile. "I am prepared to offer a solution . . . or at least, an alternate pathway."

"Really? Can you be more specific?" Rush pressed him.

Gold gave him another smile, "What I have to say must be said to all concerned. It is too important to be entrusted to any individual," he spoke with respect, "even a remarkable individual."

"Obviously, your efforts on the official level were not entirely successful," Rush began thoughtfully.

"Absolutely not," Gold agreed. "My patience has begun to wear a bit thin. I came to you as a near-last resort. I confess I don't know how to get the attention of your leaders. I don't know how to get through to these people."

"Well, you're experiencing the frustrations a lot of us have with politicians." Rush took a drink. "Are you thinking that, as a people, the only thing we understand is violence?"

"Sometimes, yes. And while I have the weaponry to level Manhattan, the Kremlin, San Francisco . . . all of them, I refuse to meet violence with violence."

Rush finished his second drink. "Would you be willing to meet with the group of scientists I'm calling together? Perhaps, if you could explain your mission to them, then they, in turn, could present it to their various peoples."

Gold smiled at him. "That's what I came to talk to you about."

Rush shook his head, thinking things through. "But, it won't be enough. I can tell you now, that we scientists are too easily ignored, dismissed, misunderstood. We would need to get important men and women from every field – educators, philosophers, church leaders – men of vision and imagination – the finest minds in the world. Perhaps a gathering of Nobel Prize winners . . ." Rush was thinking this through.

"I would leave the people who needed to be invited to this conference all to you," Gold told him.

"You'd have no objection to revealing yourself at this meeting?" Rush asked him.

"Oh no, not at all," Gold replied.

"I should be able to pull it together by Tuesday night, if that will work for you. Some of the attendees will be skyping, but they'll be there. But uh . . . what about . . . in the meantime . . . your personal safety? I suspect the Army, the police, a plethora of national security agencies are looking for you. Will you be able to remain free to move around?"

"Well, right now, I'm hoping my earthly persona as Mr. Gold living in a small apartment here in D.C. will suffice to shield me."

Rush shook his head, "I wish I could offer you some protection, but the military keeps a very close eye on me. I will have to manufacture some fantastic story as to who you are, as it is. I'm thinking, we favor each other and I can pass you off as my cousin from . . . Lochdubh, Scotland."

"Very well. I'm sure I'll be quite safe until the meeting."

"Listen, I believe you're who you say you are. But . . . suppose Klaatu Rumple, suppose that my group of brilliant, esteemed scientists and great thinkers, suppose they reject your proposal?"

Gold looked sad. "I'm afraid there are no alternatives. In such a case, the planet Earth and all human life on it . . . would be endangered."

"You have this much power?" Rush asked.

"I can assure you that such power exists."

Rush had gotten up and was pacing. "Listen to me. Even if you convince the scientists, there is no guarantee that they will be able to convince the political powers of their respective countries. They must be made to realize what is at stake." He stopped pacing. "Could there possibly be. . . " he struggled to put his thoughts into order, "a . . . a little demonstration of your powers?"

"Yes," Gold agreed.

"Would such a demonstration be possible before our meeting, Tuesday night?"

Gold considered and slowly nodded, "I think so."

"It would need to be something that would dramatize for people the seriousness of the situation. Something that would affect the entire planet, something that would demonstrate the extent of your power."

Gold nodded, "I think, yes, I can arrange such a demonstration, a little demonstration."

"You understand I wouldn't want you to harm anybody . . . or destroy anything?"

Gold smiled at him, "Of course not. Why don't you leave it to me?"

Rush seemed nervous, "I hope I haven't opened a can of worms."

Gold reassured him, "It will just be a little demonstration. Something dramatic, but not destructive. You've given me an interesting problem." He thought for a moment. "How about Tuesday, about noon? Will that work for you?"

"Sure."

"It was very nice meeting you, Dr. Rush," Gold rose, preparing to leave, but then hesitated. "I am sorry to hear about your wife's illness. I would like to help, if you would allow."

Rush froze. "You can help? You know it's Stage Four breast cancer." His voice broke. "It . . . it's into her bones. Her prognosis is . . . it's not good. She agreed to this experimental treatment . . . not for herself. . . but hoping it might help someone else."

"Your wife sounds like she is an exceptional lady," Gold told him.

"She's . . . she's my everything. I have yet to figure out what she sees in me, Rumple. When I first met her, I . . . I thought her the most beautiful woman . . . and then, she approached me . . . I would never have had the nerve to speak to her . . . but she came to me and . . . I believed I was the luckiest bloke in the world. I . . . I haven't allowed myself to contemplate what will happen to me . . . when I . . . if I lose her." The scientist had tears in his eyes.

"A man who finds that special someone is indeed fortunate," Gold observed.

"Yes, yes, he is," Rush agreed. "I would advise any man who finds the right woman, I'd advise him to appreciate that woman every moment he has with her, to be grateful for what time they have together because . . . it may not last."

Gold nodded solemnly, "I would agree with you. And, yes, I can help her."

Rush looked at him, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, "I would want anything you can give us, but Gloria . . . she would want help . . . not just for herself."

Gold nodded, "As I said, an exceptional lady. I think she would be . . . accepting of my . . . recommendations." Gold pulled out his cell phone-like device. "I'll send the information to your printer. You can take it on to the hospital staff. I hope they will be open to these procedures." He looked around even as the printer started whirling. "Now, I'd prefer to go out without the escort . . .." Gold began.

Rush nodded. "I'll let your escort know that you'll be spending the night - you being my cousin and all." Rush started out, but stopped, "Thank you. I can't put into words . . ." Rush didn't say anything more, just gave Gold a nod before going out to speak to the officers.

When he returned, he showed Gold the back way off the property.

 **SUNDAY MORNING**

Ms. French knocked on his door. "Mr. Gold?"

He rose and answered, anxious to see the delectable Ms. French again.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "After those men came and took you away . . . ?"

"I'm fine. There was a minor issue they needed to discuss with me," he told her.

"Well, I was just worried – if Bae knew, he'd be even more convinced that you're," she lowered her voice, "the spacemen. He'd call those men who took you away 'Men in Black.'"

"Well, they were men in black," he told her, not understanding the cultural reference.

Belle looked at him . . . "Right. Well, I came over to invite you for breakfast."

"Breakfast – the first meal of the day?"

"Yes, breakfast. It's where my cooking talents shine brightest."

 _He couldn't resist, even though he knew he shouldn't. Ms. French was now manifesting with nurturing pheromones – nesting, nurturing, a female intent and comfortable with taking care of others. And she was offering him some of those soft comforts peculiar to females, comforts any male would find pleasing and desirable. It was very pleasant to be in her presence._

 _Such a complex array of emotions._

And so, he found himself sitting at Ms. French's small kitchen table, next to her and across from Balfour, enjoying one of the delicacies of the planet - coffee, along with Ms. French's scrambled eggs, toast, hash browns, and bacon.

"I think we should do the Air and Space and the Natural History Museum and the one with all the cool gadgets," Bae told him.

Belle explained, "He means the Museum of Science and Technology."

"That sounds delightful," Gold told them. "Will you be joining us?" he turned to Ms. French.

"I will, I think. Gary has some game that he plans to watch at his bar, so I'm unclaimed for today." Then she looked worried, "That's not a problem, if I come along, is it?"

"That would be delightful," Gold told her. _And he really did delight in sharing this young woman's company. He appreciated many aspects of her, not least of which was her very pretty packaging._

 _He shouldn't, he really shouldn't be spending any more time with her, especially given how attracted he was to her._

 _And her son – he really liked the boy – bright, inquisitive. Balfour reminded him so much, so very much of his own son – now long gone._

 _It was an uncomfortable feeling, knowing his plans for their home world, knowing he was deceiving them. And, especially, where Ms. French was concerned, he had to acknowledge that he had these desires, these very carnal desires – but knowing his plans - it all seemed so disgusting._

 _But he wasn't willing to separate himself from them, not when they were willing to throw in with him, even if it was just for a day._

 **ARLINGTON**

The day proved to be interesting. Belle had been concerned about rain and had taken an umbrella and rain jackets for herself and Bae. They'd had a heated discussion and at Belle's suggestion, they decided to postpone the Air and Space Museum and stick with the Natural History and the Science and Technology for the day.

And at the Natural History Museum, Gold quickly caught Bae's excitement when looking at the dinosaurs, the great animals that had inhabited this planet long before humans evolved. But it was the technology museum that was most fascinating. Walking through, looking at the development of their science and the pragmatic application of devices to make their lives more comfortable, impressed him. These humans were a remarkably creative species. If only their energies could be channeled into more productive pathways, they would be an asset to the federation of planets that he represented.

Too bad they spent so much of their energies in developing machines and weapons that were used to kill others of their kind.

When they finished up that afternoon, Ms. French took them out to Arlington Cemetery to visit Bae's father.

Gold stood askance at the fields of pristine white crosses. "All of these . . . men and women who died in war?" he asked.

"Mostly. All did service to their country," Belle told him. They walked the row of crosses until they came to a grave.

"We come out here most Sunday afternoons. This is Bae's father," Belle explained. "He was a hero, a Medal of Honor winner. His group was pinned down heavy fire and he was able to rescue them by crawling over open ground and taking out two of the snipers. He was then able to escort a number of civilians, women and children, to safe ground, providing them cover, and then he returned to his group to pull them out, one man at a time. Only when everyone was safe and they had managed to take out the last of the snipers did someone realize Bailey had been wounded. They got him to a hospital but . . . he didn't recover."

"So many people, dying in war," Gold shook his head.

"They don't have places like this where you're from?" Bae asked him.

"Oh, we have cemeteries, but not like this one. Where I'm from, we don't have wars."

"No wars?" Bae said with some wonder. "That's a good idea."

"That's a wonderful idea," Belle agreed, looking hard at Mr. Gold. She might have said more, asked more questions, but the rain that had been threatening all day took that moment to start to come down. They scampered for Belle's car.

"May I take you two out for supper?" Gold asked the two.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful, but I've got a date with Gary and Mrs. King has agreed to keep Bae. Perhaps another time," Belle demurred.

 **THE LOBBY**

The rain had let up by the early evening. It had sweltered until the sun set and there was now a cool cast to the air.

"Got a date, dear?" Mrs. Mills asked Belle as she stood in the lobby of the apartment building.

"Yes, I'm waiting for Gary to pick me up."

"Well, you're very brave. I don't know that I'm comfortable going out after dark with all this spaceman drama going on. But then . . . I'm not courting, am I?"

Mr. Gold came down the steps, startling Mrs. Mills, who then greeted him with a smile. There was some awkwardness when he greeted Belle.

"Mr. Gold . . ." she began, unsure of what to say.

"You're waiting for . . . Mr. Gaston," he supplied.

"Yes, yes I am. I . . . we had a lovely day."

"Ooooh," Mrs. Mills began, obviously drawing conclusions. "You two went out today?"

"Bae wanted to show some of the Smithsonian to Mr. Gold and . . . well, I had some free time, so I went with them," Belle explained.

"Of course," Mrs. Mills smiled and went on up the stairs. "However did you manage going out today? Well, I just don't know."

Mr. Gold watched her thoughtfully. "People seem so . . ." he's not sure of the best descriptor.

"Jittery might the word you're looking for. And pretty much, yes. The whole spaceman thing has gotten everyone on edge."

"Do you feel . . . jittery?" he asked her.

"Yes," she admitted. "And I'm curious . . . and concerned . . . about those men coming here to see you."

"Balfour doesn't seem . . . jittery."

"Well, he has homework to occupy him."

"He's a fine boy, Ms. French."

"Of course, I think so."

"I know you said he's going through a difficult time, but he was warm and friendly with me – probably he's the only real friend I've made since I've been here."

"Mr. Gold . . ." Belle began, "I know this is none of my business, but why did those men come here for you last night?"

"Oh that," he replied easily. "They just wanted to ask me a few questions. Balfour and I tried to see Dr. Rush yesterday afternoon, but he wasn't in. Apparently, they thought I was looking for secrets of some kind."

"Dr. Rush? What were . . . and again, this is none of my business . . . but what . . . " her question was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell and Belle answered it.

"Gary, darling," she greeted her fiancé.

"Hey, babe. You ready? I want to get on the road to beat the traffic. We've got a reservation."

"Yes, uh. . . I was just about to finish up with Mr. Gold . . ." she began.

"Well, I hope he'll forgive me for intruding," Gary replied, obviously annoyed.

 _Rumple had a brief surge of primal behavior - which he promptly repressed._

 _In the far-gone days of his people, he would have simply sprung across the distance between them and slit Gary's throat, eliminating his rival. Then he would have taken the female for his own. He was sure of her feelings, her desire for him, and wasn't sensing that she had any similar desires for Gary._

 _Besides this Gary was an objectionable being._

 _But . . . Rumple's species had learned to express their aggressive feelings in pro-social ways. So now, working within the constraints of his own time, he decided to simply step away._


	5. A Little More Time

**Chapter 5**

 **A Little More Time**

 **The only real valuable thing is intuition. -Albert Einstein**

In the foyer of the old Victorian apartment complex, Gary Gaston was annoyed to find his fiancée in close conversation with the mysterious Mr. Gold.

"Excuse me, I was just going up to my room." Gold managed to say and he eked out a smile. "Have a good time – both of you." And he went up the stairs.

Belle turned on Gary. "That was a bit rude, Gary."

"Well excu-uuuse me. I'm just a bit tired of hearing about Mr. Gold this and Mr. Gold that. I don't like the way he seems to have attached himself to you and Bae. After all, Belles, what do you know about him?"

 _This was one of Belle's own concerns._ "Well nothing, except he seems exceptionally nice and is very well-mannered." _And a really, really good kisser._ She suddenly realized she had left her jacket upstairs in her room. "I've forgotten my jacket. I'll just be a moment, promise," and she stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Gary's cheek.

"Women!" Gary gruffed and rolled his eyes, apparently used to Belle's forgetfulness.

She was surprised when she opened the door of her apartment to find Mr. Gold sitting across from Bae, explaining the math homework to the child.

"You see what happens when you regroup across the zero," he was telling the child.

"Oh yeah! Ohhhh! Now I understand. You sure explained it better than my teacher," Bae told him. "Thanks, Mr. Gold. I just have this problem to do and I'll be all done – and in record time."

Gold looked up to see Belle. He saw that she was now holding her jacket and surmised that she had come up to retrieve it. "Well, it seems that I get to say good night again."

"Listen, I'm sorry about Gary's remark and . . . Gary. I . . ." she couldn't finish.

"Good night, my dear," he smiled at her and got up to leave.

"Bae," Belle began after Mr. Gold had shut the door. She helped her son pack up his school materials. "Perhaps, we shouldn't be taking up so much of Mr. Gold's time."

"But why not, Mom? He's my best friend. And he's awfully good in arithmetic. He even helped Dr. Rush."

"Did you and Mr. Gold really go to see Dr. Rush?" she asked him.

"Sure, we did. We couldn't get in and Mr. Gold waved his cell phone in front of the lock and the door opened. And then Mr. Gold wrote on one of Dr. Rush's whiteboards with some really fancy math stuff."

Belle was disturbed. _So, Mr. Gold really did go to see Dr. Rush. And the men in black came to get him because of this._

"Do you think that was why those men came to get him?" Bae asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised," she managed to respond blandly _How had Bae known about the men coming to get Gold? She had tried to keep him out of it – she supposed other tenants had noted the episode and had gossiped_. "But if Mr. Gold is seeing people like Dr. Rush, then he's probably a very busy man, so we don't need to keep pestering him."

Bae wasn't happy, but he sighed and agreed.

"Why don't you watch a little TV?" she suggested.

"Thanks, but I've been reading this cool mystery," he held up a book.

Belle had to smile at this, "Well, Mrs. King will be in later to check on you and you know how to get in touch with me, darling. I don't think I'll be too late, but bedtime is 9:30. It is a school night." She kissed the child goodnight and started for the door.

"Mom," Bae called to her as she was about to walk out. "Do you like Mr. Gold?"

Belle considered before answering, "I do, Bae," she admitted.

"I do, too. I like him better than Gary. Goodnight, Mom," Bae called out to her.

She blew him a kiss and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the lamp above Bae on.

 **A WALK IN THE NIGHT**

Bae settled in with his book but he was restless. His attention was not on his reading. As he sat in the little living room, he heard the door across the hall open and shut.

He knew it was Mr. Gold. And he was going out somewhere.

Bae carefully opened the door to his own apartment. He caught a glimpse of Mr. Gold going into the stairwell.

Bae hesitated only for a moment _knowing his mother would never approve_ and he decided to follow the man. He grabbed his jacket and left the apartment, trailing behind the man, out to the street, struggling to stay in the shadows. Outside it was dark and the street was semi-deserted, a light rain falling. Mr. Gold seemed to be going somewhere specific, walking with a determined stride without faltering. _He seemed to by relying on that cane less and less._ Bae continued to follow behind, keeping a good distance, but not finding it hard to keep the man in his sights. He soon realized just where Mr. Gold is going.

Surely and swiftly, Gold was making his way toward the barricaded and well-guarded Mall, to the spaceship. Gold paused at the perimeter, standing in shadow to examine the odd structure that had been built around the GORT and shook his head. _Like such a thing could keep a GORT robot confined._ He pulled out the same small device he'd used to gain access to Dr. Rush's study and began to enter information.

Bae, watched, peering around the corner of a building, keeping himself hidden. He gasped when he saw the robot's eyes begin to glow red. A fog began to come out of the robot, a thick gray fog. Bae could see that as the fog came into contact with the military guards, they slipped to the ground.

Bae backed away a little, away from the fog, but still managed to keep Mr. Gold, the robot and the spaceship in his sights. It took several minutes, but after the fog had covered the area and all the troops had been incapacitated, Mr. Gold approached the ship. Again, Bae was stunned to see a crack in the ship, a crack that grew bigger and bigger until a ramp came out from it. Bae held his breath as he watched Mr. Gold enter the ship.

It didn't take Bae long to decide what to do. He turned and ran back to the apartment. Thinking that Mr. Gold _might_ be the spaceman was one thing; finding out that Mr. Gold _was_ the spaceman was something else.

 **INSIDE**

Gold no longer appeared as human, the glamour no longer necessary. Inside the ship, he reverted to his own appearance and sat at a console, beginning to communicate.

"This is Klaatu Rumple. I want to review three scenarios – the Destiny Sequence, the Time Out Sequence, and the Magic Has a Price Sequence."

There was a small but distinct whirling sound and the first video was presented to him.

 **AFTER THE DATE**

Gary had managed to convince Belle to allow him to walk her back up to her apartment. He was thinking that, with any luck, the brat would be tucked away and he might get a little action. Dating a woman with a pre-teen son wasn't easy, in fact, it was downright frustrating. Gary was hoping, once he could convince her to marry him, that he might be able to send the little weirdo off. He was supposed to be some little super-bright nerd. Surely, they could find some genius school that required the kid to board for weeks at a time.

Gary was most disappointed to find Bae sitting on the sofa in the living area of Belle's apartment.

"Bae?" Belle was surprised. Bae was usually compliant with bedtimes.

"Mom, Mom, I have to tell you something," Bae was agitated and flushed.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's late. You should be in bed," she gently admonished him, automatically feeling his forehead to check for a fever.

"I couldn't go to sleep, Mom. I have to tell you."

Belle glanced at Gary, helplessly. "All right dear. What do you have to tell me."

"After you left, I heard Mr. Gold leave his apartment and . . . and I decided to follow him." Bae could tell his mother wasn't happy to hear this, but she didn't interrupt him. "Where do you think he went? He went right to the spaceship and that robot spewed out some sleeping fog and then . . . and then Mr. Gold walked right into the ship!"

"Oh, Bae," Belle was shaking her head.

"Really, Mom. I saw him. The ship just opened up and he walked right in."

Belle took a breath. She tried to be gentle. "Bae, are you sure this wasn't a dream?"

"No, it wasn't, Mom. I promise you . . . I saw it!"

Gary, bored and irritated asked, "Where did you see all this?"

"On the lawn on the Mall. There are a bunch of tanks and guys with guns and all."

"And Mr. Gold walked right by all these tanks and guys with guns?" Gary was obviously patronizing the child.

"No . . . yes. The robot had put them all to sleep." Bae turned back to his mother. "Mom, I like Mr. Gold, but now . . . I'm kinda scared."

"You know this doesn't make good sense. Why don't we get Mr. Gold over here and he can talk to you," Belle suggested. She looked at Gary who got the clue.

"I'll go and get him," Gary offered.

He stepped across the hall and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he tried the knob and the door opened.

"You don't believe me, do you, Mom?" Bae asked.

"I'm trying to Bae, but you've got to realize how fantastical this all sounds."

"Mom, I'm not a liar."

Inside Mr. Gold's apartment, Gary looked around. It was neat without any personal items. He walked through and didn't find any sign of the resident. Gary turned to leave when he spotted something on the dresser. Some things were catching the light coming from the streetlight outside the window and Gary picked one of the things up. It appeared to be a large clear crystal, too big to be a diamond. Next to it were some red and blue crystals and they were all lying on some fine golden thread.

Gary looked around and determined that he was indeed alone. He pocketed a strand of the thread and one clear and one red crystal.

Gary crossed the hall and returned to Belle's apartment. "He's not in his apartment, but I found this." And he held up the red crystal.

"Is it real?" Belle asked.

"I don't know. It's pretty big," Gary told her.

"Mr. Gold has a lot of those and some spun gold. He says they use them for money where he comes from. He gave me these two to thank me for keeping him company, Saturday." And Bae held out his two blue stones.

"This doesn't make sense," Gary observed. "Belle, I think the guy's a crook. I never did trust him."

"Maybe he's a diamond smuggler," Bae suggested.

"A diamond smuggling spaceman." Belle just sighed. "I think I've had enough excitement for one night."

Gary leaned in, "Do you think it's safe for you to stay here?

"I'll be sure to lock my door," Belle told him and ushered Gary out the door. "I'm sure I'll be all right and I'll call you tomorrow morning." She took a moment to lock the door behind her date and then turned to look at her son, "Just to be on the safe side, Bae, would you like to sleep in my room tonight?"

"Sure, Mom."

"And why don't you let me hold on to those stones? I'll want to find out if they are valuable or just sparkly bobbles."

As Bae went on to her bedroom, she noticed he was leaving a trail of wet on the floor.

"Bae, why are your shoes soaking wet?"

Bae looked down. "Oh, I guess the grass was really wet from all the rain."

 **MONDAY LUNCH**

Belle had gone into work and sent Bae off to school. She was again in her back basement working alone, quietly. Focusing on her work allowed her to forget about . . . everything. Gary. The spaceman. Mr. Gold.

But in the quiet stillness of her work, things kept bubbling up. She kept remembering Gold's kiss and how good his body had felt molded in next to her own. She couldn't help but compare his kisses to Gary's. Mr. Gold's kisses had made her run hot and . . . shivery . . . and all her lady parts had responded, whereas Gary's kisses – usually they made her feel nothing, at best she'd feel a little warm. As for Gold, well, she knew she had just met the man, but she acknowledged there was _something_ between them. He was so different from other men she had met. Heck, he was totally different from any other people she had met.

And she recognized that she was enormously attracted to him. So much so, that it was hard to remember why she had ever gotten engaged to Gary.

She remembered that, at first, Gary had been kind and generous. As a bookish introvert, she had initially been flattered by his attentions and then, she listened to other women who told her she was so lucky that he'd chosen her, he was so successful and handsome. She had convinced herself that she was fortunate to be his chosen bride.

But now, she wasn't so sure. There was no passion between them – at least not from her end. That deficit was quite obvious now that a stray man like Gold was being featured in heated fantasies. _She kept reliving that kiss._

No, no, she kept telling herself. It hadn't been all that great. It couldn't have been.

Concentrating on the minutia of her job helped her find her center. After a couple of hours, she began to feel calm and collected.

It was quiet in her little domain. She liked it that way. No windows, a little on the dark side, and perhaps a bit cool.

It was nearing noon when Belle heard a small sound, a sound that might have been missed in a larger, busier office or by a less intense person, but her office was small and still and she was nothing if not focused. She looked up and startled.

It was Mr. Gold. He stepped out of the shadows like he had materialized from thin air.

"Oh, hello, I didn't hear you come in," she told him. _How had he gotten in – through all the security? Not to mention finding his way into her back-basement office?_

"May I see you for a minute?"

"Sure, I . . . I was just going out to lunch."

"May I walk out with you then?"

Belle agreed, but she was obviously not comfortable with being alone with the man. _He was too unsettling._

 _He sensed it, the pheromones of fear permeated the air._ As they were about to leave, the phone rang and Belle reached for it.

It was Gary.

"Listen, Belle. I'm at Fischer's getting an appraisal on that ruby. I was hoping we might have lunch together."

"Oh, well, Gary. I'm afraid I won't be able to make it today . . . Right . . . I'll talk to you later, then . . . Yes, dear. . . of course, dear, that will be fine . . . bye bye."

Gold didn't say anything. He walked quietly by her side as they went through the dark hallway, up the rickety elevator and out of the building.

They ended up at The Capital Grille, a little restaurant near the museum.

As they sat and waited for their lunch orders, Gold shared, "I saw Balfour this morning before he went to school."

"Yes?" Belle answered.

Gold's manner was calm, but there was a hard edge to him that had not been there in previous conversations. "I want to know what he told you he saw last night."

Belle smiled nervously and shrugged, "Well, I . . . I really didn't pay much attention to what he said. He has such an active imagination."

Gold wasn't put off for an instance, "Did you believe what he told you?"

When Belle didn't answer immediately, when she didn't meet his eyes . . .

"I have a reason for asking this, Ms. French. A very important reason."

"I'm not sure what to believe," Belle told him. "His shoes were wet, so I know he had been outside and there were a lot of details, some very specific details."

"What did he tell you?"

She took a deep breath. "That you went to the spaceship and then the robot let out some kind of fog that made the soldiers all around the ship fall asleep and then . . . and then," Belle looked up at him, "you went into the ship."

He sat quietly. He spoke softly. "Balfour is a very special boy, Ms. French. You do know that?"

"I do."

"And . . . you are special, too. I don't usually . . . I've never, in fact, become friendly with . . ." he had dropped eye contact.

"One of the natives?" she asked him.

He smiled at her. "I have a job I'm entrusted to do and . . . distractions, even very pleasant distractions, might get in the way of me completing my mission."

"Mission?" she asked.

He shook his head and smiled at her. "You are a truly remarkable woman, Ms. French. You're kind, generous, understanding and very intelligent. I enjoyed kissing you . . . and I would like the opportunity to kiss you again. I know it is inappropriate, since you have a man . . ."

"I don't have a man," she interrupted.

"Mr. Gaston . . .? He's not spoken for you?" Gold was interested. _This was what he had sensed, but he'd also noted that Gary acted as if this woman belonged to him._

"He may have, but I haven't agreed. We . . . I'm not sure that he's the one," she began. "He doesn't seem to like Balfour and . . . I'm not sure that he . . . well, I'm just not sure."

"You want a man who can accept you for the extraordinary woman that you are? One who won't ask you to compromise? One who celebrates your talents, your intelligence? And one who accepts, even likes, your son? One who will allow you, encourage you to travel?"

"Gosh, yes," Belle found herself quickly agreeing with him. She took a sip of her iced tea. "Was Bae telling the truth? Did you go into the ship last night?"

"I need a little more time, Ms. French. A little more time, before I can tell you the truth. Before I can tell you everything."

"All right."

He smiled at her and walked her back to her job.

 **MONDAY NIGHT**

Belle was watching the news and her attention was caught by the feature on Dr. Rush's gathering of scientists coming to study the spaceship. Their big meeting was to begin Tuesday night. She and Bae finished their suppers and she was cleaning up her kitchen when Gary came by. He was excited.

"Belle, you won't believe what I found out about that ruby. It's perfect, absolutely perfect. The jeweler said she'd never seen anything like it and offered a ridiculous sum for it. I think that either this Gold guy is some jewel smuggler or, maybe, as crazy as it sounds, he actually is the spaceman, like Bae said."

"Oh Gary, I can't imagine that the spaceman is really walking among us and he just happen to have landed in my apartment building. This sounds absolutely crazy," Belle tried to dissuade him, but Gary was having none of it.

"Just think Belle, if the spaceman has really escaped and I'm instrumental in helping the military locate him, I will have my ticket. I'll be on talk shows and have book deals. Belle, I'm going try to get through to the military – I can't imagine that it'll be easy – they must have dozens and dozens of crackpot calls."

"Gary, I'm not sure you need to do this," Belle began. "I mean, nothing has happened with this spaceman. He appeared and then the military took him into custody. There's no reason to think he's escaped and certainly no reason to think that he's walking around D.C."

"Well, if he escaped, he'd have to go somewhere – why not stay in the middle of everything? I don't think he's want to go far from that ship or that robot."

"Maybe . . ." Belle hesitated. "Maybe he has our own best interests in mind. Have you ever thought of that? It's possible if we interfere then, well, something really bad might happen."

"He's just one guy. How powerful can he be?" Gary asked.

"Whoever this spaceman might be, Gary, he has a shipload of alien technology at his beck and call, not to mention that huge robot. We have no idea what that robot is capable of."

"Belle, you sound like you're on his side," Gary told her. "Whatever is going on, I'd sleep better if I knew this guy was in custody and right now, I'm not so sure he is. You're not talking me out of this." And miffed, he stalked out.

"Gary!" she called after him, but he ignored her.

She sat down at her little kitchen table. Bae came in.

"Mom, I wasn't eavesdropping but I heard . . . I heard what Gary was telling you. Should we warn Mr. Gold?"

She looked at her son. "I don't know, Bae. I don't know. I mean, he hasn't exactly admitted that he is the spaceman, but . . . I . . . I believe you. I believe you saw him go into the ship. He came by to see me at lunch to ask me what you had told me about what you'd seen."

"Was he mad?"

"No, I think . . . I think he was more concerned."

"I think we should tell him about Gary."

"Yes. Maybe so. I'll go have a chat with him later."

 **LATER**

It was after Bae had finished his homework, had his bath and gone to bed when Belle crossed the hall and tapped on the door.

Mr. Gold greeted her in his usual calm manner but quickly perceived that she was upset. _The fear pheromone was still prevalent. It was sour and acrid._

"Ms. French? Is there a problem?"

"Gary took one of your stones and has had it analyzed. The jeweler was impressed with the quality and said she'd never seen a stone so perfect."

 _Her fear was for him – not of him._ Mr. Gold sat quietly waiting for her to go on.

"Gary's now sure that you're the spaceman. He's going to try to get through to the military to turn you in," she finished in a rush. "You are probably in some danger."

He nodded. "Perhaps."

"You're planning on meeting with those scientists tomorrow night, aren't you?"

"Perhaps," was all he would admit to.

"If Gary gets through . . . they might send people here. Do you think you . . ." she wasn't sure about what she was to say next. "Perhaps you should stay in my apartment tonight?"

He looked at her, puzzled. _The pheromones were no longer radiating fear . . . now . . . now . . . there was something else._ "Ms. French, my understanding is that you are an engaged woman and it would not be seemly for you to have a man who is not your fiancé in your apartment for the night."

"I'm not so sure I'm still an engaged woman. Gary and I are drifting further and further apart. I can't see myself spending the rest of my life with the man. And . . . it's not like we would be spending the night together," she looked at him, her eyes large, her manner nervous.

He spoke slowly _this was the most beautiful female he had ever known. Spending time in close quarters with her promised to be delicious torture. And now, yes, he could tell, the pheromones were suggestive of sexual interest._

 _Time for a little honesty._

"Ms. French, I would be happy to accept your offer. I . . . you should know, I find you extremely alluring . . . attractive . . . uh . . . desirable. I will, of course, respect your . . . privacy. I believe you have a sofa I can sleep on."

"Mr. Gold, if we're being honest with each other, you should know that I find you extremely . . . uh . . . all that you just said," Belle stammered, her eyes locking with his for a brief moment before she looked away. "I'm not usually so quick to . . . move to a . . . I mean, I don't usually jump into . . . I . . . ," _Oh lord, this was awkward._ She turned and led him across the hall.

Once inside her darkened apartment Gold spoke softly, "I'll be taking this sofa."

Belle had turned to him and slowly ran her hands up his arms. "Yeah," she whispered back to him. "The sofa," she agreed, her hands now up to his shoulders.

They were standing very close together. _And she was touching him._

"Maybe I should find you a pillow and a sheet," Belle continued, running her hands back down his arms.

"That would be . . . very nice," he whispered, leaning in the breath in her scent.

"We get up early," Belle was talking slowly. "I have work and Bae has school." She had not released him.

"I plan to get up early myself. I have some places I would like to go," he told her, susurrating his syllables.

They had not moved away from each other, standing closely, both of them more than aware of the heat coming off the other's body.

"Ms. French," Gold murmured. He leaned in.

She lifted her face to his and now there was less than an inch between their lips. Her fingers clenched on the sleeves of his suit jacket.

Belle heard herself, "Yes, yes." And he dropped his mouth onto hers.


	6. This is Real

**Chapter 6**

 **This is Real**

 **Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves. – Albert Einstein**

Gold was awash in the pheromones of sexual interest, beckoning him, letting him know his attentions would be welcomed, were desired, were needed.

Even through the haze of the kiss, he felt her beginning to pull off his jacket and he reached around, managing to help her undo the buttons, so he could shrug out of the garment. It landed on the floor of the living room with a soft thud, crumpling in front of the sofa.

Belle took a step away from him, a step toward the bedroom and he, seduced and mesmerized by her siren call, stepped after her.

Oh yes, this, this was going against years of practice, of habit, of behaving. Knowing what was likely to happen to this primitive, aggressive species, he was struggling with guilt. He so wanted to enjoy this woman even while he planned the path to extinction for her people. He felt guilty, conflicted, but . . . but this female was the most delightful creature he had come across in more than a hundred years. And she was, apparently, quite willing to grant him her favors.

He eagerly followed her into her bedroom and allowed her to push him against the door for another passionate kiss. And this time, he reached up to pull the dress from her shoulders.

"It unzips in back," she managed to murmur.

 _A zipper. He had one of these devices on the pants that he'd been wearing and had managed to master it. Ingenious invention, but he wasn't sure if it would work the same in a dress as it did in his pants._

He fumbled, not sure what to do and Belle finally reached around and began pulling the zipper down.

 _Ah, so that's how it worked. Interesting – simple enough._ Momentarily distracted, he finished pulling the zipper down. Then he returned his attentions to kissing her. She had refocused her own attentions onto him and had managed to pull off his tie and was frantically trying to get him out of his vest and shirt with little success.

"Ms. French," he had to be sure, "You want this? You sure you want this?"

"I'm sure," she told him, her pupils blown wide with only a tiny coronet of cornflower blue showing.

And it was enough for him to give his entire attention to kissing her.

Belle had begun to doubt her lush memories of their first kisses, but now, now it was coming back, oh, it was all coming back. And her memories had not done his kisses justice. He really knew what he was doing, gently pressing her mouth open, softly teasing her lips, her tongue with his tongue. She could taste something warm and spicy and . . . _oh my_ . . . altogether delicious.

And the tingling started, coming from his fingertips that were nestled in her hair. She shivered and realized she was making little sighing sounds.

"You must know . . ." she struggled to talk between his kisses. "I really don't usually . . . I don't invite men into my bed after knowing them for only a couple of days."

"And I don't usually engage in intimate acts with women I have only known for a couple of days," he responded.

She pulled back a moment, "You aren't married or anything, are you?" she had to ask, suddenly panicked – she really didn't know much about this man.

He smiled. "I was . . . married, but I'm not now."

"Oh good. I'm mean . . . I'm sorry about you not being married anymore, but I'm glad you're not." She closed her eyes, cringing. "I mean, I just . . . oh . . . I'm not saying things right." She looked directly into his eyes, "There's something about you . . . I'm drawn to you. There is something about you that . . . I don't know. I just . . . " she didn't finish. "I don't even know your first name."

"Rumple," he whispered.

"Really?" she was momentarily distracted. "You must call me Belle."

"You are so beautiful, Belle" she heard him murmur, and he finished tugging her dress down so that it pooled around her feet. He stepped back and, in wonder, traced his hands over her arms and then her shoulders . . . and then he slipped his fingers under the straps of her brassiere, tugging these down off her shoulders and, reaching around, with some modest fumbling, managed to remove the sheltering garment.

She couldn't meet his eyes, hoping he would find her pleasing.

"You're perfect. Your skin is like the finest silk, smooth and soft," he told her, pulling her back to him, whispering and kissing her just below her ear. She could feel his hands sliding up her body, coming around to caress her breasts, lifting them, his thumbs running across her hardened nipples.

She leaned into him then and began to kiss him, running her tongue up the side of his neck. _So much more pleasant than kissing Gary._ She was quite satisfied to hear him groan.

"Pretty lady, you are going to take me out by the knees," he told her. And she gasped when he picked her up and laid her on the bed. She felt his hands running along her body as he stripped off her panties.

"Not fair," she managed to say. "Let's finish taking off your clothes." He paused briefly, but then smiled and shook his head.

"Let me look at you first," he said. And he began to run his hands over her, her legs, her hips, her stomach, drifting up to her breasts, his thumbs continuing to tease her nipples, which had instantly responded to his touch. He couldn't resist the lure of the little rosettes and leaned over to lick the hardened little nubs before sucking one of them into his mouth even while his fingers tortured the other, pinching and pulling on her. Belle had brought one hand to her mouth to stifle her cries and had buried the other hand in the man's hair.

"Please, I want to touch you," she begged him.

He stopped, pulling back. "As you wish," and he knelt above her with a confident, smug smile. Belle thought that somehow seeing the man without the armor of his suit jacket, in just his vest and open-necked shirt was incredibly hot – taking off the suit jacket had made him look vulnerable and . . . and . . . _she wouldn't have thought it possible . . ._ so very much more desirable.

She was too nervous to finish managing the buttons of his shirt and he helped, slipping off both the vest and shirt in one movement. Then, locking eyes with her, he reached down to unfasten his belt.

She laid her hand on him – _on his very hard, very erect, very male penis -_ and he froze, "Ms. French . . . Belle . . . I don't know that I can manage very many attentions from you in this particular area."

She giggled. "Really?" feeling a surge of power and she ran her hand up and down his turgid cock. From what she could tell, he was satisfyingly endowed. He grabbed her hand.

"Later, sweet lady," he cautioned her. "I want to . . . uh . . . I want to give you pleasure first."

He dropped his pants, leaving himself in visibly tented boxers and then put his hands on her stomach, shifting himself so that he was positioned between her legs. He slid down the bed and confidently ran his hands down her legs, drawing them open. He began to plant soft kisses along the inside of her thighs, working his way up, up.

"Oh my!" She was trying not to be loud, not to wake Bae, but the man was persistent and very, very adept and she had a difficult time keeping quiet. She had closed her eyes, was biting her lip and moaning. When his tongue touched her very core, she nearly screamed, just managing to keep things down to a whimper. And then he began to do _something_ with his tongue, something Gary had certainly never managed to do, something that was making it hard for Belle to breath, something that was making her eyes cross and her stomach clench and blood to pool between her legs.

She had twisted her fingers into the man's hair, soft, silky hair. "Rumple!" she cried out, unable to restrain herself. She nearly sat up when her body gave over to the waves of pleasure he had granted her.

He did not pull away, lapping and licking at her as she rode out the billows of her orgasm. When her breathing had returned to normal, she felt him pull himself up over her body, kissing her all along the way. He stopped when he got to her breasts, again spending time kissing, licking, and suckling, using his mouth and then his fingers to firmly draw out her engorged nipples.

And now, he was lying between her legs, chest to chest, face to face. "My beautiful Belle."

"My darling Rumple," she said. "Please."

He smirked and quickly promised her, "Soon." And then he surged into her.

Belle nearly came again, so intense and so satisfying was his filling of her, his length, his breadth. They fit together perfectly.

And then he started to move within her and the drag against her overly sensitized feminine nub was too much. There was so much strength there, so much power. He seemed just barely in control, so much force, so much energy. She felt as if he could burst within her any moment, lose control any second and it would all sweep her away in a flood of desire. She felt like she was drowning in his essence and it was only a few moments before she was yielding, breaking against him, crying out, clutching his shoulders, clinging to him.

He didn't last long after she gave herself to him, squeezing him until he drove into her and he groaned as he spilled himself in long, strong waves of release. There was the briefest moment that Belle thought that she was looking into amber eyes, not brown eyes, eyes with vertical slits, not round pupils. And there was skin that was mottled with tiny glittering scales, not smooth tanned skin.

But the impression was gone before she could dwell on it.

He rested on her, holding her close to him, still planting light kisses on her face and her neck, but obviously ready to drop off to sleep.

 _What was wrong with her? She barely knew this man, but she had invited him into her bedroom, her bed and now she was splayed beneath him, her body having exploded (repeatedly) from his touch. He was nestled against her and she brought her hand up to run her fingers through his hair and rest on his shoulder._

 _Everything felt so right, so perfect._

 **MORNING**

Gold had heard them. In the night, they had knocked on his door, likely opening it and searching his rooms. Likely those 'men in black' had returned.

The pretty female had saved him. He had lain awake after their coupling, struggling with his thoughts, the requirements of his job, the desires of his heart.

His body had responded to her soft snuggling, her very nearness and, so awash in her scent, he'd turned her on her side to take her from behind, slowly and leisurely, using his fingers to reach around to caress her into a near frenzy before allowing her to reach her climax. And then, knowing she was satisfied, he increased his efforts, harder and harder, tilting her forward to push in deeper, her soft moans driving him on until he let himself go. And he felt her body tighten as she again trembled and gave it up to him yet again.

And then he had dozed, only to wake very early in the morning, their mingled scents filling his nostrils, and, finding himself swollen painfully hard with his own need. She was lying mostly on top of him, on her stomach and, when he'd reached down, he found her wet and swollen, ready for him again. He'd gently turned her onto her back and then, shifting on top of her, had drawn up her knees, and taken her hard and masterfully, gratified when she stuffed the corner of a pillow into her mouth to stifle her screams of release.

If he'd had the choice, he would've prefer to stay with this woman, feeling a warm welcome in her bed that he'd never felt anywhere before. Her trembling response, her surrender to her own passions, her surrender to him, was exhilarating and intoxicating.

How could he now carry out his mission?

He had volunteered to come here but recognized that it was felt by most of the Klaatun that Earth was a lost cause. The inhabitants were very bright and very creative (an unnerving combination) but hyper-aggressive, killing their own species without hesitation. It was not felt that they were capable of change, certainly not the level of change required by the civilized systems.

But Rumple himself had evolved from a hyper-aggressive people and he knew too well how his people struggled sometimes with the old, demanding impulses. Since being on Earth, he'd felt the draw of the old ways more strongly than he'd ever felt them.

It must be something in the air _perhaps all those free-floating pheromones._

Before he came here, he had thought he would make an earnest, heartfelt request, be rejected and then have to quarantine the planet – confining them to their own space and allowing nature to take its course, it would take less than ten generations for the population to wipe itself out. _But he'd felt that he'd had to try, even a token request for disarmament was better than not even making an attempt. He'd sleep better if he, at least, tried._

But now things had changed. Now, how could he take the female and then essentially just stand by as her kind reaped the results of their self-destructive behaviors? And what about the boy? He genuinely liked the boy, saw some real genius in the child, some real potential.

He could hope they would be agreeable to change, but he knew this kind of people. They would become frightened and likely say they were going to change, but then promptly renege.

There was the other option. Not a particularly promising one, but one that might work, that would give them the opportunity to learn, to grow.

It was a demanding option and one that he didn't think the Earthlings would want.

He leaned over and kissed the sleeping beauty and slipped out of her bed. He had things to do.

He whispered, "Best night of my life. Thank you."

 **TUESDAY**

Belle stretched. She felt . . . wonderful - invigorated. She reached over and immediately realized she was alone in the bed. She had a vague memory of the man giving her a morning kiss and telling her 'thank you,' and then leaving the bed.

She stretched again thinking she ought to be tired, after all, the man had awakened her twice more during the night to have his way with her. Of course, both times she had enjoyed every minute. Both times she'd been swept away, the last time, stuffing the pillow into her mouth to stifle her screams of pleasure.

 _She'd never experienced anything like this with Gary._

 _Not even close._

 _Best night of her life._

She got up to get ready for work, grabbing a shower, noting her nipples were a bit sore, not quite recovered from the lavish attentions of his mouth and fingers. There were also a few faint bruises on her arms from where he'd held her as he had pummeled her – so wonderfully well.

She got Bae up, breakfasted and off to school.

Bae was looking her closely and she wondered if he had heard something or had figured something out.

"You look really pretty, Mom," Bae had told her.

She blushed, "Why, thank you." Probably still had that _après-sex_ glow.

"Mom, are you all right?" Balfour had asked as he walked out the door. "Mr. Gold came and talked with me this morning. Did you get a chance to talk with him?"

Belle felt herself blushing. "Yes, I . . . I . . . talked . . . with him. He's going to be careful."

 **TUESDAY – NEAR NOON**

He did it again – just appeared in her office, no sound, no sign, he was just there right before lunch time.

"We need to talk," was all he said.

"I think so," she agreed and closed out her computer to go with him. _Her entire body was tingling, like her very cells remembered what this man had done to her, for her._

They got in the rickety elevator and, as the door closed, Belle pressed the button to go up to the ground floor.

"What is it you want?" she asked him.

He hesitated. "Perhaps, before I ask you to be honest with me, I should be completely honest with you," he started. "I need to let you know about who I am and . . ."

The elevator came to a jolting, jarring stop and the lights went out. Belle was startled and dug into her pocketbook to retrieve her phone. It would not turn on.

They were standing in absolute darkness.

"Wha . . . What's going on?"

"What time is it?" Gold asked her.

"I don't know. It was almost noon when we left my office."

"Oh, then I'm afraid we'll be stuck here for a little while," Gold told her. "About thirty minutes."

"We should try pushing some of the other buttons. One of these is an alarm," Belle told him.

"It won't work," he told her patiently.

"Why not?" she asked suddenly concerned. She felt herself shrinking back from him as much as she could in the dark small enclosed space. _She wanted to trust this man after what had passed between them, especially after what had passed between them, but suddenly things seemed . . . alarming._

"I've . . . neutralized . . . all sources of energy, all that you run your machines with . . . over your entire planet."

"So . . . it _is_ all true then?" she asked in a whisper. "You _are_ the spaceman." _It had been one thing to play around with the notion, but this – this was real. Her sexy, hot, mysterious Mr. Gold was indeed the spaceman._

 _And he had done something to her home world._


	7. Explanation

**Chapter 7**

 **Explanations**

 **The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once. -Albert Einstein**

 **STANDING STILL**

In the outside world, traffic had stopped, factory assembly lines had stopped, the flow of media information had stopped. And not just in the capital city, but over the entire world, from the most civilized corners to the furthest shores. No matter the source of energy - wind, solar, nuclear, water, fossil fuel – everything had shut down. All devices using energy, automobiles, televisions, computers, cell phones. battery operated toothbrushes, freezers - _everything_ had shut down.

Everything was standing still.

Dr. Rush was holding forth in a special symposium when the lights had dimmed and gone out. The power point quit working. His students had quickly noted they had lost the cell phone signals.

"Professor, what's going on?"

Rush wore an old-style watch that had to be wound every night. It had stopped at noon.

"Of course," he said to himself as much as to the students. He got up to look out the window at the traffic stopped in the streets. He had quickly realized what was going on.

"Hey, it looks like the whole city has shut down," said one student, noting the stopped traffic.

"It's a brilliant idea." He turned back to his students. "Does this frighten you?" he asked them.

"Yes, sir," one of the answered. Another spoke up, "Actually, I'm scared shitless . . . sir."

"That's good," Rush replied. "I'm glad to know this."

"Can we get a hold of anyone from the White House? How about that liaison, that Charming fellow?" one of the generals asked. The room at the Pentagon was full of high-ranking military and national security advisors.

"No, sir. All the phone lines are down, even our so-called emergency connections."

One of the officers spoke up, "This is him, isn't it? The Spaceman?"

The general sighed. "As far as we can tell, all power, all forms of power have been shut off with a few remarkable exceptions such as planes in flight, hospital care, people with implanted medical devices. Something has caused this and the best guess we have is that it is this spaceman Klaatu."

"He's showing us just powerful he is," someone in the room remarked. "If he can shut off power, shut off power selectively, what all the hell else can he do?"

Another high-ranking officer spoke up, "We'd already determined that Sunday night the robot had broken through our restraints and apparently emitted some type of non-toxic, but extremely effective, sleeping gas. Everyone within four hundred yards was knocked out for at least four hours."

"Do you think he returned to his ship?"

"We just don't know. We think he may have contacted Dr. Rush and, at that time, he was staying in an apartment house on Maryland Avenue, but when we checked, there was no one in his room."

"We had any other leads?" the General asked.

"Hundreds, but they've all been crackpot," the officer replied, but then added. "Except last night we had a call from some guy who said the spaceman was staying at the same place as the man who'd visited the doctor. The caller offered proof."

"What kind of proof?"

"A perfect ruby, larger than any anyone's ever seen. According to the caller, the spaceman uses them as money."

"Well, they are portable and likely universally valuable," said another officer and everyone turned to stare at him. "It makes sense. Jewels, precious metals – why wouldn't he carry something like that?"

"Well, we were watching the apartment building and some of our people saw a man who fit the caller's description of the spaceman leave the building around six this morning. They've been following him but . . . uh . . . they lost him – said it was like he just walked into a mist and disappeared. We've got a sketch out and quite a few people are looking for him now."

"We need to get him, sir. Alive preferably, but we need to get him."

The men in the room nodded in agreement.

 **ELEVATOR**

Belle had plastered herself up against the elevator wall. In the pitch darkness, she was hoping, trying to get answers. But now she was also afraid. She was terrified.

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" She couldn't see him, couldn't see anything. "You really are . . . I thought . . . I was hoping . . . and we had sex!" She was nearly hysterical. "Did you spawn something on me?" _What had she done?_

Rumple had reached for her, his alien eyes easily spotting her by her heat signature in the blackness. "Belle, Belle," he spoke softly, calmly. With nowhere to go, she stiffened when he took her into his arms. He held her, his hands stroking her arms, and slowly, slowly he could feel her begin to relax.

He spoke, his voice just above a whisper, "Belle, what happened between us last night, what we shared . . . it was real, it was genuine. At least it was for me. I hope it was that way for you."

She sniffed. "I thought it was real too," she said in a small voice.

"And," he gently kissed her forehead, "if it is any consolation, for us to reproduce . . . well, we have some DNA in common which leads to some interesting theories, but we'd need some help from a genetics lab to make a baby."

She seemed to be a bit calmer and he relinquished his hold on her, now the back of his hand just grazing her cheek.

"So, you're going to . . . exterminate us?" she asked.

"Exterminate you? That makes no sense – if we are distressed because of your aggression levels, why would we respond by being more aggressive?"

Rumple paused for a moment. "I am part of an interplanetary police force. My job is to keep the peace – to make peace."

"So, you're here as . . . a savior?" she asked him.

"I'd like to be that," he answered her. "But your planet, your people, they are a very real threat to galactic peace. While we respect your right to war among yourselves, once you begin to take steps to join with us, we require that aggressive actions cease."

"But you don't think we can change," she told him.

"I don't know. You're one of the most ferocious species I've ever encountered and I've done this job for several hundred of your years. Some have used your world as the ultimate standard for violence – this planet is half as aggressive as Earth or one-third as aggressive."

"So, what's going to happen?

"If I can't convince your people to immediately disarm, all of them, then I will have to place a barrier around your planet, containing it so that your people will not be able to leave the confines of your solar system and others will not be able to contact you. You will be left to your own devices and . . . I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid, your kind will likely destroy your planet and . . . yourselves in the process in less than ten generations."

Belle realized that she was crying. "Isn't there any . . . any other alternative?"

He closed his eyes. "There is one, one option in particular but it . . . it's. . . it's intrusive, very intrusive. And it doesn't always work with highly aggressive species," he answered softly.

"But . . . but . . . don't we deserve an opportunity, some time to learn new behavior? Maybe we can be one of the exceptions. What is this other alternative?" She was touching him now, able to feel the heat of his body in the close quarters.

He sighed and pulled her against him, his lips brushing against her face. Before he continued he took a moment to enjoy her soft body melting against all his angles. "We go ahead and place the quarantine barrier . . . but then we also begin a program of 're-education.' We . . . neutralize weapons that are employed in acts of aggression. We help retrain those who have learned maladaptive responses and we try to teach you other ways of communicating, other ways to solve your problems."

"That . . . could sound good?" she said hesitating. "But how? How is all this done?"

"We start with my GORT robot, Dove. He is able to replicate himself and he and his kind would be responsible for monitoring your planet, for policing areas, for stopping wars by dissolving and neutralizing weapons."

"Well, that sounds like a plan," she told him, ever hopeful.

"But it's just the beginning because just taking away your weapons will not be enough," Rumple struggled to explain. "Your people need to learn to respect each other. How many times have your people persecuted some group because they are somehow different from the majority? How many times have your people perpetrated horrors on your own kind because someone believes in something different, or because the color of their skin is different, or for any number of reasons?"

"Too often," Belle had to agree.

"If we go with this intrusive option . . . well, when we first developed it, we thought of it as being a Blessing, but seeing what it really does . . . well, many of us now think of it as . . . as a Curse." He lightly kissed her cheek. "Before I leave, I will put into place this . . . Blessing . . . Curse. I will drop, for lack of better words, an Empathy Bomb," Gold paused. "This is where the program becomes especially intrusive."

He was quiet for a moment, composing his response. "You, most of you, have within you the capacity for empathy, for altruism, for kindness but, when survival becomes tantamount, the capacity is reduced, even closed out. This Empathy Bomb, the Curse, will alter your DNA, activating tamped out genes, tamping others, even, in some cases, changing the very sequence of your genetic code." He paused a moment. "And for those few who don't have it within their DNA . . . there's Dove. He will seek out those who are . . . who are 'different' and he will . . . he will 'fix' them. At the most extreme, he is . . ." Rumple placed a light kiss on her mouth. "He is capable of transferring the very feelings of victims into the minds of their tormentors."

"So, epigenesis and . . . somehow you're able to compel empathy and compassion onto those of us that are missing these feelings," Belle understood.

"It's more effective than jail time. It's also very, very . . . very uncomfortable." He didn't say anything for a moment, but then added slowly, "People . . . have . . . died when they have been forced to confront the consequences, the impact of their actions."

"Somehow, it's hard for me to feel sorry for these people," Belle said but then, after a moment, she added, "but, I guess, many of them were also victims, they were taught these behaviors or learned them to survive."

He smiled at her, even knowing she couldn't see him in the darkness. "You are remarkable. You know that?" and he kissed her again, his lips just grazing hers.

"We try, you know we do try," she told him softly. "And we are getting better. Did your people ever behave in such a way?"

"We did, but we matured beyond this behavior before we left the surface of our world. We learned to value people for their characters, their talents. We learned to encourage each person to maximize their potential. Ms. French, my Belle," he shook his head. "I am not a politician and can't speak in pretty words. My mission is to lead your people into peace or shut you off from any hope of redemption. It's that simple. I have been stymied in my efforts to speak to your heads of state, so my plan is to speak with your world's most respected scientists."

He was intent on kissing her again, this time thoroughly, when the elevator abruptly shook and the lights came back on. The elevator began to rise.

He hadn't kissed her, but he hadn't let her go either. "Will you turn me in before I can speak with the scientists?" he asked her before the elevator doors opened.

"I think from what you've told me, that if you don't get a chance to convince them, then our fate is sealed and we could be looking at this Curse."

He closed his eyes. "I'm afraid so. Belle," he reluctantly let her go and they stood next to each other a moment after the elevator doors opened. "I don't enjoy the enforcement part of my job, please understand. I especially don't enjoy the idea of what I may have to do . . . and now that I've met you. . . and Balfour."

"Thank you, but. . . oh no, you know Gary is trying to get through to the military about you. What if he's been successful? Let me call him," she told Rumple.

As they stepped out and Belle pulled out her phone, Rumple noticed that there were two men in the lobby. He watched them as Belle made her call.

"Gary, Gary, why aren't you answering your phone? . . . Listen, please, please, please don't pursue this spaceman thing until I've had a chance to talk with you. It's way more important than you realize. Call me, call me immediately when you get this."

She hung up and dialed his secretary. "He's not in? . . . Yeah . . . It was really creepy when the electricity went off. . . Well, let him know I really need to talk with him when he comes in. . . . Thanks."

She hung up from her second call. "He's not answering, not available. I've left messages."

"Belle, do you have your car nearby?" Rumple asked her. He had watched, impassively, calm and still, while she'd made her frantic calls.

"Yes, it's in the lot."

"Then, let's go for a ride," he suggested amicably.

 **THE MILITARY AND DR. RUSH**

They had been waiting for him when he came back to his house.

"Dr. Rush," it was a high-ranking military officer, likely a general, if Rush remembered his insignia correctly.

"Yeah?" he answered, never comfortable with the military.

"I've been sent to let you know that you're going to have to delay your meeting with all the other scientists."

"What?! Why?" he demanded to know.

"It's too dangerous."

"It may be more dangerous not to let us meet."

"We've canceled a number of airline flights, so probably a good number of them won't even be able to make it in – after what happened this afternoon."

"But others are already in town," protested Rush. "And their computers are working."

"Sorry sir," the officer replied.

"Fuck this!" Rush exclaimed. "We have the most important conference in the history of mankind scheduled! You can't just shut us down!"

"Actually . . . we can, sir. And we have. My orders are coming from the highest authority."

Rush thought his head would explode, but he recognized he had no choice in the matter. He suspected the military et. al. had figured it all out regarding Gold _although he was surprised that they didn't go ahead and allow the conference just to apprehend the . . . man . . . spaceman._

 _He also wished that he had a way to warn the man. The military was closing in._

 **APPREHENSION**

"Where are we going?" Belle asked. She was steering slowly through heavy traffic.

"Dr. Rush's residence," Rumple told her.

Belle continued driving her car down the crowded Washington streets, doing her best to stick with less traveled roads, roads that paralleled the main thoroughfares. She couldn't help but notice that there were a significant number of military vehicles all around – Humvees, mostly, many carrying troops and blatant weaponry.

They could see barricades as they came close to Rush's house.

"We're not going to be able to get through," she told him.

 **A CONVERSATION WITH GARY**

In Gary's office, his secretary was on the phone. "Honestly, I'm so scared I can't sit still. I'd like to run some place, but I don't know where to go . . ."

Gary walked in. He seemed happy, elated even.

"Ms. French has been trying to reach you, sir," his secretary told him, not disconnecting from her own call. "I wasn't able to get through and then there were all the problems with the phones and the electricity. Ms. French says it's very important."

Gary sighed, "I'll call Ms. French."

He dialed his cell. "Belle, I've got great news. I got through to the Pentagon and someone there actually seemed to be listening to me. They got all the information on Gold."

"Gary, I . . . I don't know how to tell you this, but this isn't a good thing," Belle began.

"When I shared with them all the stuff you and Bae had seen and then the information about the ruby . . . well, Belle, they said they would call me back. I think I got through and I'll be giving them all the information I have on Gold."

"Oh, Gary," Belle was upset.

"Do you have any more information? I have a number I can call them back."

"No, I don't have any more information. And you shouldn't be talking with them again."

"Why not? Are you crazy? After what happened today?"

"Don't you get it, Gary? Don't you realize what's happening, how important the spaceman is?"

"Of course, he's important and now I've done something about it. He's a menace to the whole world and it's our duty to turn him in, to help stop him."

"Do you think we're going to be able to stop him? Gary, he's not a menace. He told me why he came here. He's trying to help us."

"Oh Belle, just because you like the guy? Don't be silly, darling. You realize that if they bring him down because of my information, then I can write my own ticket."

"That's what you're thinking about?

"Well yeah. Somebody's got to get rid of him."

"Gary, don't, don't go ahead with talking more to the military. Believe me, this is literally, the most important thing in the world."

"Oh wait, Belle, I'm getting another call."

"No, Gary, please, please don't talk with them anymore. You don't know what you're doing. The whole world is involved in this." She pleaded with him.

"I don't care about the rest of the world."

Belle didn't make any reply.

Gary continued, "Hey, you'll feel differently when you see my picture in the papers and on TV."

"I feel differently right now," Belle told him.

"Oh, come on. You wait and see. You're going to marry a big hero."

Belle answered him, softly and slowly, "No, Gary. I'm not going to marry anybody." And she hung up knowing that Gary was likely talking with the military at that very moment.

She looked at her phone and then at Rumple. "Gary got through to the military and is ratting you out."

"Ratting me out?"

"He's giving them your address, your description, your contact with Dr. Rush, everything he knows about you. You can't go back to the apartment."

"That's fine. I don't need to go back to the apartment."

"I do, my son is there."

"Then let me off. I will try to walk through to Dr. Rush's house and find out what is going on. If anyone can arrange hiding for me, it will be him."

She nodded, concerned, afraid for the man. She pulled into a parking place and laid a hand on his arm. "Be careful. I'm afraid that within an hour they will have a description of you and . . . I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid they . . . I'm afraid they are going to try to kill you."

He leaned over and gently kissed her on the lips. "If something happens to me, Belle," he sighed, "I'm worried about Dove, the GORT Robot."

"But Dove . . . GORT, he's just a robot. I mean, without you, what can he do?"

"There is no limit as to what he could do. If something happens to me, he will react and . . . it could be disastrous . . . for your people. Dove is ultimately a policeman and, despite our efforts to mitigate his original programming, he sometimes works on an eye for an eye kind of logic. He will seek out those he feels are responsible for criminal activity and he will neutralize not only weapons that have been used aggressively but those that _could_ be used aggressively. He'll do the empathy transference, and well, he is re-active, not pro-active, and it . . . it probably won't go well. Ultimately, he will enact the Barrier and leave your planet to its doom. There will be no second chance. GORT is not a power I have ever had to invoke and I don't want to start with your planet."

His eyes were sad as he gazed at her. "Listen, Belle, I've talked with Balfour and I will tell you. If something happens to me, one of you must get to Dove and tell him, ' _Klaatu barada nikto_.' Say that for me."

Belle dutifully repeated, " _Klaatu barada nikto_."

"Good." He hesitated before getting out of the car. "Belle, I . . . I hope to see you again."

"Rumple!" Belle called after him. "I . . . I hope to see you again, too."

 _A.N. This story has one more chapter._

 _My next original piece (Windswept is the working name) is not even close to being ready for posting (In an urgent quest to save her people, Belle meets her husband at the altar. She is thrown into world of court intrigue and secret identities.)_

 _I do have two other movie remixes in my Twyla Files that are close to pushing out the nest and I'm considering going with one of them while I work on Windswept. Any preference for a remix of Roman Holiday (I had to extend the story, but the reporter will get the princess in my version) or one of My Fair Lady (My Fair Lacey with Rumple standing in as the cantankerous Professor Higgins - who better? - and Lacey French as the young woman who desperately wants to better her lot in life)? thx so much - twyla_


	8. Few Choices

**Chapter 8**

 **Few Choices**

 **Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one. – Albert Einstein**

Rumple smiled at Belle as she pulled away from him. In her mirror, she watched as he carefully made his way down the street, heading toward the barricades, towards Dr. Rush's house, sticking to the shadows as best he could. Belle did a U-turn and headed back toward the apartment house. She was stopped no less than three times and had to pull out her identification and point out her address to show that she had a legitimate reason to be in the area. She finally made it back to the apartment and rushed in.

Everyone was gathered in the lobby, crowded around Mrs. Mill's enormous television.

The news report was all about the spaceman. Someone was interviewing a military officer.

"He does seem to be alive, yes."

"What happened?" Belle asked the group.

"They shot the spaceman," Mr. King explained. "They got him trying to get to Dr. Rush."

Belle's heart came up to her throat. She vaulted up the stairs. Bae was in the room watching her small screen.

"Mom, Mom, they shot Mr. Gold! Mom, this morning, he told me something. That if anything happened to him . . ."

"I know, Bae. He told me the same thing. I have to try to get over to the spaceship."

"I'm coming too."

"Oh, Bae, no. It's too dangerous."

"If it's dangerous for me, then it's dangerous for you and . . . Mom, I'd rather die with you than live without you."

Belle stood considering her options. Bae was, after all his father's son. Bravery was a strong family trait. She had never felt it in herself before, but at this moment she knew she would do the brave thing. She had to do the brave thing. "All right then. Let's go."

Bae was about to follow her when he stopped. "Give me a moment," he told her and ran back into his room. Soon enough he came back out again and followed her.

And she and Bae went back down the stairs.

"Are we driving over?" Bae asked her.

"It took me forever to get back to the apartment and I was driving _away_ from the spaceship. I can't imagine we will be able to drive the car in to get closer. Let's walk . . . and we'll take some of the back ways," she told her son.

"You really like Mr. Gold, don't you Mom?" Bae asked her as they hurried along the street.

"I do," she admitted.

"You like him more that Gary?" he asked her.

She glanced over at him. "Yes, I do. Uh . . . Bae . . . Gary and I have broken up."

Bae sighed. "Then maybe I can tell you that I never like Gary," he told her. "He would pretend like he was my friend, but he . . . he wasn't. Not like Mr. Gold. Mr. Gold talks to me like I'm smart and he wants to hear what I have to say. And he acts like he thinks I can understand him and, mostly, I do."

"Mr. Gold likes you a lot, Bae," Belle whispered to him.

"Mom, I think he likes you a lot, too," Bae told her.

She got them into the back lot of the Smithsonian, where she sometimes parked her car and from there they could see the spaceship. They were left just on the outside of the barricades around the ship . . . and around the GORT robot.

GORT's eyes were beginning to glow red and all around the robot, soldiers began dropping to the ground. In the bright sunlight, Belle could just see the faint grays of a fog-like gas that the GORT was spewing.

"Mom, this is what I saw when Mr. Gold needed to go into the ship," Bae whispered to her. "That gas will put us to sleep."

"Right," she glanced at her son. _What a brave child he was. Took after his father._

The GORT began to step forward.

"We've got to do it now, Mom," Bae told her.

Belle agreed. "Stay here. I got this," she told him and stepped out in front of the robot. It clearly sensed her presence but something in its demeanor suggested that it did not see her as a soldier.

Still, the robot was huge and intimidating. It had fixed its gaze on her and was . . . just waiting.

 _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow, she told herself._

"GORT," she finally made herself address the giant robot. "Dove." Its eyes brightened.

"Klaatu . . . . barada . . . nikto," she managed to get out.

The robot's eyes turned from burning red to a soft blue and it stepped toward Belle. Frozen in terror she did not have the presence of mind to flee. The robot slowly bent down and easily picked her up.

"Bae!" Belle shouted. "Run back to the apartment!" she called out, but instead her son dashed out to where she was and the robot turned its head toward the child. With its other arm, it reached down and took Bae's hand.

She wasn't able to see very well but had the sense they were walking up some kind of ramp and realized that the robot was carrying her and leading Bae, both of them, into the spaceship.

Belle and Bae were enveloped in a cocoon of light as they were taken deeper and deeper into the ship. The robot deposited them in a room with several chairs, looking most like a living room area. Then the GORT turned and left them, a door shutting behind him - shutting them inside.

"Gee, Mom, we're on the spaceship," Bae said with wonder. He was up and exploring.

"Bae, you shouldn't have come after me," she gently scolded him. "I asked you to run back to the apartment."

"I know Mom, but I thought of what my father might have done," and the child reached under his shirt and pulled out something Belle quickly recognized.

"You've got your dad's Medal of Honor!" she said, surprised.

"I thought we needed to be brave and this would help us," Bae told her. "I knew dad would never leave a man down, that he wouldn't want me to just leave you."

"Yeah, he wouldn't have wanted that," Belle agreed with him. "But I'm still not sure it was the smartest thing you could have done."

"But Mom, we're on the spaceship. How cool is that?" Bae asked her.

He was looking all around the room they were in and Belle had joined him, looking around herself. "Finding anything interesting?" she asked the child.

"No, ma'am," he answered. "I was looking for buttons or something that might make stuff work. I wonder if things are voice activated."

"Right, but since we don't speak spaceman, we're not going to be able to," she paused, "'Turn On' his wide screen TV to get any new update."

They were both surprised when a screen came up out of one of the pieces of furniture lining the wall.

Belle looked at her son in amazement and then she shrugged. "Turn on news," she said to the screen.

They joined a report mid-stream. ". . . very near the home of Dr. Nicholas Rush, the well-known theoretical physicist. Shots were fired and the status of the spaceman is not known at this time. We are standing by waiting official word."

Belle sank down into one of the seats. Bae had joined her and leaned into his mother.

"Mom? Why was Mr. Gold shot?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

There was a sudden note of panic in the reporter's voice.

"I'm seeing the robot, the same giant robot that has stood just outside the spaceship! It's here!"

The camera panned and Belle and Bae could see the GORT robot walking through the myriad of soldiers and police officers. Someone shot at the robot who stopped, then turned, its eyes glowing red. Belle had to assume the robot had disintegrated all the weapons in the immediate area.

Then the robot continued walking, seeming very intent on some purpose. Belle watched and she saw the robot bend down and pick up a limp body."

"Mom! That's Mr. Gold!" Bae told her.

No question. It was Mr. Gold.

"Is he . . . Mom, is he alive?"

"I don't know, Bae. I don't know."

Bae watched the television screen. "It looks like he's bringing Mr. Gold back here," he announced.

"Maybe," Belle agreed with her son.

"Mom," Bae turned to her. "What if . . . what if Mr. Gold is dead? What happens then?"

Belle didn't want to tell her son yet again that she didn't know. She just shook her head and wiped a few tears from her eyes.

The two watched the chaos on the screen, including an irate interview with Nicholas Rush, who was more than willing to share that the military had shut down his confab with the other premier scientists, many of whom had ended up at his house. Dr. Rush blamed the military for being 'trigger-happy nut-jobs' and proceeded with a profanity-laced rant, lapsing into what was likely Scot Gaelic at some point.

Back at the spaceship, Bae was first to hear the noise.

"Mom, someone's come in," he told her and, when he went to the door, it opened and the child ran out of the room into the hallway.

"GORT," Belle heard her son address the robot. "Dove," he remembered the name Mr. Gold had given to this specific robot. "Is Mr. Gold all right?"

There was no answer. Belle joined her son in the hallway. The robot was carrying the limp, frail-appearing body of Mr. Gold – but the man no longer appeared like Mr. Gold. He was now a golden-green-skinned alien with curly brown hair. Even his clothing had changed – no longer appearing as the immaculate suit, but layers of odd fabric, leather-like with a smooth silk tunic shirt underneath a vest. Belle and Bae followed the robot into what must have been the infirmary of the spaceship.

Both Belle and Bae could see an ugly green scrape across the man's forehead. The green glistened and seeped out of the man.

"It looks like the bullet grazed his head," Belle shared.

"Yeah. And his blood is green." Bae looked up at his mother and whispered, "This must be what he really looks like."

"Yes," agreed Belle. This man did look like the images she had had after their one night together.

"I was right," Bae whispered. "He is a green alien."

The robot gently set the man on an examining table and began working over him, his giant size belying the finesse of his fine movements as he labored over the body of the injured man. He connected the man to different monitors and began to examine Rumple's head.

In short order, the robot had inserted an IV and then went to work to seal the seeping head wound and bandage the spaceman.

It was some while before Rumple blinked his eyes and turned his head slowly, struggling to focus on the woman and boy. Both of them could see his eyes were amber with vertical slits for pupils.

Belle beamed, "You're alive!"

"At least for a little while," he concurred. "The bullet did a bit of damage but our medical science is very advanced and Dove here is quite the physician." He sat up, wincing in pain. "But I'm going to have a serious headache for a while, I'm afraid." He smiled at them both, "Obviously, Dove brought you here. You were able to give him my message."

"Yes," Belle confirmed. "He carried us in here."

"You look different," Bae said, staring at him.

"This is my true appearance," Rumple told the child. "I could not very well go among your people as . . . a . . ."

Belle finished for him, "a little green man from outer space?"

Gold managed another smile, "Precisely." He turned to Belle and questioned her, "Belle?" _Was she all right with his duplicity? She might be repelled by this form and appalled that he had tricked her with a different appearance._

She reached out and let her fingers trail down his face avoiding the bandaged area above his eye. "This is interesting. You know I thought that I . . ." she paused and glanced at Bae. "I . . . I just thought I might have sensed something like this . . . before."

"Maybe. We do seem to be in sync. What's happening outside?" Rumple asked, slowly shifting his legs to hang from the examination table.

"Apparently, they shut down Dr. Rush's group," Belle told him. "Otherwise, it seems like people are just running around. The whole thing's in chaos."

Rumple slowly nodded. "I need to make one last announcement," he told her with a sad smile. "I had hoped I would be talking with the finest minds on your planet but . . . I will commandeer your electronic media and address . . . the whole . . . planet instead. Not usual protocol, but effective."

"What will you . . . what will you say?" Belle had to ask.

The amber eyes locked with hers. "After the shooting, I have few choices. I must put the barrier in place. If you think it's best, if you think your people can learn, then, Belle, I will bless . . . curse your world and hope your people have the capacity to learn."

"Please, give us the chance."

"I will then," he agreed and managed to stand. "Dove, I think I'm fine for you to disconnect me. Right now, I need my suit . . . my flight suit," he clarified. He turned back to Belle. "Ms. French . . . Belle . . . I will be leaving shortly."

Belle nodded, blinking back her tears.

"I do plan to return off and on to check on how your species is progressing but . . . Belle . . ." he floundered.

She didn't say anything. She waited for him to continue.

Before he could say anything more, Dove had returned to the small infirmary room carrying the golden flight suit. Belle and Bae excused themselves, telling him they wanted to give him some privacy to change. It was only a short moment when he came into the larger living room area, dressed in his flight suit.

"I'm sure, I'll be on the video," he told them with a smile and, after a moment's hesitation, he pulled Belle to him again and planted a light kiss on her lips. "I'll be back in just a moment. I have some things to say to you." He looked down at Bae, "Watch out for your mother," he told the child.

"Yes, sir," Bae answered him.

Left alone, Belle and Bae turned their attention to the video. The channel was focused on Dr. Rush who was addressing a cadre of scientists who had gathered in his back yard.

"I called you from your work, from your homes. We were to meet here tonight with a man, an intelligent creature from another planet, the man who came here in a spaceship. As you all know, this is now impossible. I can only say that I share the bitterness of your disappointment.

Belle couldn't help but notice that the cream of Earth's intellectuals, men, women, all nationalities, ethnic groups, and religions were present in the crowd.

Rush continued, "Under the circumstance, the military has asked us not to meet at the spaceship and, reluctantly, I can do nothing but suggest we comply."

The screen abruptly changed to the reporter. "We are switching back to the spaceship. The ramp has been re-extended and the spaceman has reappeared."

Belle and Bae watched as the cameras now focused on Mr. Gold, now with his helmet off and his alien appearance visible to all. Behind him stood the implacable GORT robot.

"I will be leaving soon," Rumple began. "You will forgive me if I speak bluntly. The universe grows smaller each and every day – and the threat of aggression by any group – anywhere – cannot be tolerated. There must be security for all – or no one is secure. This does not mean giving up any freedom except the freedom to act irresponsibly. Your ancestors knew this when they made laws to govern themselves – and hired policemen to enforce these laws. We of the other planets have long accepted this principle. We have an organization for the mutual protection of all planets and for the elimination of aggression. This organization works because of the police force that supports it. For our policemen, we created a race of robots," and Gold turned to look at Dove, the GORT robot who was standing stoically behind him. "These robots patrol our planets and preserve the peace. In matters of aggression we have given them absolute power over us."

He looked out across the audience, a blending of reporters, military, curious civilians. "They can respond to violence with violence – they can level cities, but I have instructed this robot not to do this. Instead, this robot will simply dissolve weapons that are used in aggressive acts, but that is not his most effective weapon. No, what he does best is give the gift, or curse, if you prefer, of empathy. He is able to transfer the feelings of victims into the minds of the aggressors, so that those who do violence, or who would do violence, now will suffer as much as their victims. Perpetrators will feel the terror, the pain, the desperation of those they would harm. We have found that this is a much more effective method for eliminating aggressive behavior. This has allowed the most dysfunctional among us to learn to respond in . . . more productive ways.

"Furthermore, your entire planet will be . . . treated . . . if you will . . . your biological predisposition for violence will be diminished."

He paused for a moment, "My own people were once like you, but we learned, with much effort and hard work, to live in peace, without arms or armies, secure in the knowledge that we are free from aggression, from war, and free to pursue more profitable enterprises."

He smiled gently at the crowd. "We do not pretend to have achieved perfection – but we do have a system that works. I am here to give you the facts. It is no concern of ours how you run your own planet. But when you threaten to extend your violence, we have to intervene."

He sighed, "Your system will be enclosed in a force field. You will not be able to penetrate this force field. I will be back from time to time to check on your progress."

Gold paused one last time. "One of two things will happen. You will either learn to live in peace with one another and be welcomed into the galactic community or . . ." he looked around at everyone who had gathered, "you will end up obliterating yourselves despite our best efforts to re-educate you. You must choose." He looked around and made one last comment to the cameras, "Choose wisely."

Before he returned to the ship, Rumple turned to Dove. "GORT, veracto," he said as a parting command.

Belle and Bae were waiting for him inside the ship.

Rumple seemed nervous as he sat down across from Belle. This man who had just confidently addressed an entire world, delivering a harsh ultimatum, seemed to be struggling when speaking with her. She realized that, for everything else that he was, for everything else he could do, he was still, at heart, essentially just a man, one with self-doubts and insecurities.

"It may be . . . inappropriate, I think, but . . . " he stopped and sighed. "I have come to care for Balfour and I . . . I know this is probably sudden for you, but it is the way of my species. Belle, I knew you were the one for me because of your scent, your wonderful, delicious, unique scent." he managed to look her in her eyes, "I am in love with you."

Belle nodded.

He licked his lips and continued slowly, "I would like you . . . and Bae . . . both of you, to come with me. I know this may be . . . overwhelming and I know . . . you don't know me very well and I think, perhaps, that I have misled you, especially about my true identity . . . and my appearance, but I think you are the finest representatives of your species I have ever come across and I have been studying your kind for several hundred years."

"So, you just want me to quit my job and go off into space with you?" she asked him.

He stammered, "I . . . I know you are an independent female and I can respect that, but I can also tell you there would be opportunities for employment for someone with your skills." He added, "I will also assure you that I'm quite capable of providing for you and for Bae."

Belle nodded, giving him the opportunity to get his thoughts together.

He continued making his case, "I regret I cannot show you your world, but I can show you the universe . . . well, at least this quadrant of the galaxy – the galaxy is really big."

"What about Bae?" she asked, quite enjoying herself.

"I can provide excellent educational opportunities for Balfour, much better than he can get on Earth."

Belle glanced at Bae. "What do you think?" she asked her son.

"Go out into space with Mr. Gold? You bet, Mom. I learn more with him in a day than I learn in a week," Bae responded easily.

"We'll be returning here for visits from time to time and, of course, at any time, if you no longer want to continue with your association with me, I would understand . . ." Rumple hesitated, "of course, you would be allowed to return to your world."

Belle nodded and turned back to Rumple. "I understand. I think there is very little left for us on Earth and I think of the opportunities – to study your knowledge, to travel – to travel the galaxy . . . so yes, yes, we'll go with you," she told him. Then she added, "And I love you too."

He seemed surprised. "Really?"

"Really, you silly, wonderful man," and she leaned over to kiss him.

 _And it did seem right as if this was what she had been waiting for all her life._

Rumple laughed at this news and pulled her in for a quick, rough kiss. He reluctantly pulled away from her.

"I've got to take the ship up now and . . . finish what I've started," he told her.

"Can I watch?" Bae asked.

Rumple glanced at Belle who nodded.

"Yes, if you like," and he led the child into what was apparently Control Central.

From the outside, people watched as the ship began to whirl around and then slowly lift off from the Mall. It slowly rose into the air and began to rapidly climb, up and up, higher and higher, until it was a bright white dot against the bright blue sky.

Inside the ship, once in orbit, they were able to look down on the Earth.

"It really is a beautiful world," Rumple told them. "Water worlds are some of the most stunning." They watched him as he released a fume of dark purple fog which rapidly spread out in great rolling clouds over the entire planet.

"Is that the . . . Empathy Bomb?" Belle asked him, remembering his descriptive phrase. She felt the tears on her face.

"I'm sorry. Yes, it is," he acknowledged. "It will begin acting immediately." He then began the process of erecting the Barrier around the planet.

"What will happen to people like Gary?" she had to ask about the fate of her former fiancé.

Rumple dropped his gaze. "One of several things. He could recognize and accept that he manipulates and uses others and become a much better person, or . . ." he did not continue.

"Or?" Belle pushed for an answer.

"All right. I'd told you that this bio-engineering bomb can sometimes be hard on people, very hard. Very, very hard."

"Yes?" she waited.

"Worst case scenario?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath. "His head explodes."

Belle blinked. "Oh. I hope it doesn't come to that."

"Really what he could experience is a cerebral embolism. It depends on how resistive he is to the 'modifications.'"

He watched her but her only response was to nod. He turned back to his task and explained what he was working on next.

"I'm beginning to place the Barrier now. If you know the combination, you will be able to penetrate it. This allows me to check on Earth's progress from time to time. This will take a little while and I don't have to monitor it, just check on things from time to time."

"So, where are we going after this?' Bae asked.

"Back to the official world of the Klaatun so I can make a report," he smiled at his two guests. "While we're waiting for this to finish would you like a tour of the ship?" and he leaned in to whisper to Belle, "You'll find my bedroom is soundproofed."

Belle thought she must be blushing. She didn't get a chance to answer. Bae was already up and ready for the tour.

"Can we see the engines? Whatever it is that makes her go?" Bae was asking.

"Of course," Rumple agreed and he led the way out of the control room.

As they made their way down the hall, he turned to Belle, "After I make my report, if you're still interested in traveling, in seeing far-off, exotic places, we can start with a little tour of the galaxy."

"The galaxy," she repeated. "I'm going to travel the galaxy." _With my son and the man I love._

 _Sounds good._

 **A.N. Well, this turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. Despite the story being vintage science-fiction (with a heavy-handed message regarding World Peace) and no hint of romance, it translated well into a Rumbelle love story. Thanks to all you lovely readers who reviewed, followed, favorited, etc.**

 **Look for my next story "Holiday." It's a remix of Roman Holiday that's been sitting in The Twyla Files for quite a while (I'll be working on Windswept while I'm posting this story). Because the movie ends with the Princess and Reporter returning to their own lives and bidding each other goodbye forever (so unsatisfactory), I wrote an entirely (somewhat lengthy) different ending which eventually brings them back together (I do write fluffy fluff). thx -twyla**


End file.
